Autumn Within
by SiriusFan13
Summary: Balthazar has fallen ill months after Morgana's defeat. Dave & Veronica are desperate to save him before time runs out. But everything isn't what it seems. And no one, even Balthazar himself, plans to let him go down without a fight. The clock is ticking.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the company, Disney or their creation, _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_ (either version). I don't own the quote that this fic starts with. And those of you who are astute will notice that I don't really own the title of this fic either. The title "Autumn Within" is actually the title of a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who is quoted right under this disclaimer. That said... welcome to a world of magic. I hope you enjoy.

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_"It is autumn; not without  
But within me is the cold.  
Youth and spring are all about;  
It is I that have grown old."  
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "Autumn Within" _

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 1****  
**

"Again." Balthazar's voice was abrupt, a sharp contrast to his relaxed appearance, as he leaned back against an old tree, reading a book. If one didn't know better, it would appear as though the man weren't even paying attention to the boy standing before him in the middle of an elaborate circle torn into the empty field that they currently occupied twenty miles out of the city. The only sign that he cared at all about the boy's existence was his repeated barking of "Try again", "No", and "Not good enough." An occasional flash of annoyance in his eye when something went terribly wrong and he had to fix it. Or, if the boy did something passable as he just had, the sorcerer might nod vaguely at him and snap, "Again".

The target of his irritation was David, his twenty-year-old apprentice, who had been working for hours while the older man flipped pages and occasionally complained about the "degradation of the modern writer" between his criticisms of the boy's skills. After being snapped at for the hundredth time, Dave managed a glare at the older man, though his exhaustion wiped out any chance he had at appearing intimidating. "Balthazar," he griped, "I've been at this for three hours. I'm tired. And I have my finals starting Monday. Can't this just wait a week?"

"No."

"Why not?" The gangly youth dropped down to the ground, sulking. "The only exam I'm even prepared for is my physics final. If I don't actually _read _some of the assigned books that I've _supposedly_ been studying for the past few months, I'm going to bomb English. I guarantee that my professor isn't going to let me off for 'saving the world'."

"And I'm not either, so stop whining." Balthazar finally looked up from his book. "As soon as you get it right, you can go home."

"You could _help_. You could stop looking at that stupid book long enough to tell me what I'm doing wrong." He motioned to the paperback in his master's hands. "What are you reading that's so fascinating anyway?"

"Modern smut." He slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the grass beside him, leaning forward to look at Dave. He raised one eyebrow, and his lips twisted into a slightly sarcastic smirk. "There you go. I'm watching. Do it right this time."

Dave ignored his master's sarcasm, and shot a glance at the book. "What are you doing reading 'smut' any..." He trailed off, actually reading the title. "Wait a minute. Balthazar, that's _Romeo and Juliet_! That's not modern! It's—it's a _classic._"

"I'm a thousand years older than that book, David. It's sappy, contrived, and off the top of my head I can think of at least two other stories _and _a poem that it completely rips off. Trash. Now focus." He finally stood and stretched his back, wincing at a sharp twinge as he straightened. He scowled. _My own fault for leaning against a tree like that for so long. I wind up with muscle cramps and stiff joints. _His eyes shot over to David, who was still sitting like a lump in the grass. _And I get an apprentice who looks like I've been making him save the world again instead of growing a tree. _He snorted, walking over to the boy, and stopping just outside of the circle. "Now..." He motioned to the sapling that Dave had managed in three hours to grow from an acorn. "I want to see you make it grow. Run that thing through its life cycle." His blue eyes scrutinized the youth. "Where's your ring?"

Dave finally pushed himself up to his feet. "In my pocket. I'm the 'Prime Merlinian' aka 'Wonder Wizard' why would I need to wear it?" He waved his hands in front of his face in a pseudo-mystical way, adding, "The Prime Merlinian doesn't need a ring."

Balthazar didn't miss Dave's mocking impression of his voice. "Because," the man growled, "you're doing a lousy job without it. Merlin's heir or not, until you can manage to do the work _with_ the ring, I don't want to see you wasting both of our time trying do to anything without it. You're already lucky enough that Horvath didn't notice your ring missing from his staff in his rush to escape. And you're even luckier that Veronica spotted it in the grass before we left. Now, put it on."

Grumbling, David dug it out of his jeans pocket, brushing sweat and dark hair out of his eyes. Trying to ignore his irritation. Failing miserably. He understood that Balthazar had his best interests at heart. Probably. But that didn't make his obsessive _pushing_ any easier to take. It was as though the older wizard expected David to somehow understand every spell immediately. Just because he was Prime Merlinian didn't mean that after only a few months of training, he could match the skill of a master sorcerer who had been honing his own magic for over a thousand years. But trying to explain that to Balthazar was like standing in a puddle while talking to an electric fence. One that could shoot plasma bolts and flames. It was a useless—and somewhat intimidating—gesture.

Sometimes he really _did_ feel like Balthazar had only lived this long to make Dave's life a living hell.

Finally managing to yank the huge silver ring with its massive dragon out of his pocket, he shoved it onto his finger. "Could they make this thing any bigger?" he groused. "It's like they needed to compensate for something."

Balthazar shot Dave a sharp glare that silenced the boy before continuing. "Now," the tall sorcerer started, in a deceptively docile voice, "try to make the plant grow." He paused. "And try not to set the field on fire. We need to keep a low profile."

David motioned to the huge torn-up circle in the grass around him. Merlin's Circle. His focusing point... In the middle of a field. "_This _is supposed to be low profile?"

Balthazar waved his hand dismissively. "Crop circles. No one ever investigates. That's why if we practice outdoors, we use a field."

"And why exactly _are_ we training outside again?"

"Because, David," the sorcerer responded through clenched teeth, "you can't manipulate plant life without _plants_."

"And the potted plant in my lab wouldn't work because...?"

Balthazar's hand went up to his face, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as though suffering from a severe headache. "Just shut up and practice. Age the tree. Run it through its life cycle. _Show_ me that you've been paying attention to _something _I've said." _Prove to me that I'm not wasting my time here. _Though that last thought wasn't really fair, and Balthazar knew it. The boy had proven himself when he'd faced Morgana. And when he'd saved Balthazar's own life. _He just needs to be able to control magic _all_ the time. Not just when the people he cares about are threatened..._

"Right." The boy raised his hand, brow furrowed, eyes intent. _Get it right. Go home. _He sighed. _Then study. Call Becky. Study more. Maybe study _with _Becky... _His ring glowed. The sapling did nothing except lose a leaf, which actually was probably more a result of wind than magic.

His master made a sound of disgust. "Clear your mind. Stop worrying about the exam. And Becky. And your experiments. Just focus on the tree." He moved until he was beside David, still just outside the circle. "Watch me." He raised his own hand, closed his eyes, and after a moment's pause, turned his palm upward, lifting it a bit higher. In response, the tree groaned as its trunk thickened, sprouts shot up, leaves unfurled. The sorcerer's eyes opened, and he lowered his arm, flexing his fingers a few times as it dropped. "Like that. Did you see what I did?"

Dave nodded. _You closed your eyes and wiggled your hand around like I do. Only when _you_ do it, magic happens. When _I_ do it, I look like an idiot._

"Did you understand?" For the first time that day, Balthazar actually seemed concerned about whether or not the boy was getting it. And for the first time that day, Dave realized that his master was distracted. He was always a bit sarcastic. A little... off. But today he was irritable as well, and his abrupt shift from annoyed master to concerned teacher suddenly brought that all into sharp focus. David almost felt bad for being so distant. Balthazar seemed as tired as he was.

"Dave! Wake up!" Balthazar snapped his fingers near the boy to catch his attention. "Do you understand what I just did? Why it worked for me and not for you? You have to push past everything. Thoughts. Fears. Frustrations... _Everything._ Think of it like one of your science projects. If you have a current splitting into a dozen wires, some that fizzle out to nothing, you're wasting energy. One clear line gives the most efficient current. Now, I want you to conduct your magic clearly and efficiently into that tree. So first you need the cut away all of the loose ends. Got it?"

Dave paused a moment. Simple scientific explanation. Much clearer than the magic mumbo jumbo. Balthazar was speaking his language again. Thank god. "I think so." He closed his eyes this time, trying to copy Balthazar movement for movement, his brow immediately furrowing. His expression tense. He remained motionless until his features finally relaxed. With a smooth motion he raised his hand, paused, and felt the energy flow from his fingers. He opened his eyes. The tree had grown a few inches. There were buds on the branches. That was all. He frowned in disappointment. This was going to take forever.

But to his surprise, Balthazar's voice was approving. "Good. You're getting it. _Now _you can practice on your potted plant at home."

"I'm done?" Dave turned to stare at his master, startled. The man _never _cut practices short.

The older man nodded, rubbing again at his stiff shoulder. "Might as well." He swatted at a bug in front of his face. "I hate the great outdoors," he muttered sourly. "Three hours of training and I'm tired, sore, and now the mosquitoes have discovered me. The things I do for you." He slapped another one. "Damn things."

Dave had already made a dash for his laptop case and physics text before Balthazar could change his mind. Scooping everything up, he ambled over to the sorcerer, commenting, "It's just a mosquito."

"They're little bloodsuckers, draining me one drop at a time."

Dave rolled his eyes. "It's one bug!"

His master responded gruffly, "And if a swarm came at me, they'd suck me dry." He graced his apprentice with the faint smile that he reserved for those times when he dropped his teacher mode and was just a regular person. Practice was over. One good thing about Balthazar was that as strict a tyrant as he could be during training, he was actually kind of fun to be around as a friend. "Don't you ever watch those Discovery Channel things? There was one where a swarm of mosquitoes took down a bison."

Dave paused a moment, just staring at him. Finally he shook his head. "You really need to find a hobby, Balthazar. I _knew_ it was a bad idea for you to get a TV."

Balthazar just chuckled and walked back over to the tree he'd been resting against. He scooped up the book and flung his heavy leather coat over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go." He began walking toward the dirt road where an inconspicuous old truck was parked. David followed close behind. "The television is Veronica's toy. She makes me watch it with her once in awhile. I got sick of those things before they were even colorized. I don't get why I'd want to watch pictures on a screen when I can just go out and experience things for real." He grinned. "Or manipulate them."

He walked through the field of grass smoothly avoiding every pitfall, as Dave somehow managed to find every groundhog hole to stumble into and root to trip over. "Yeah," Dave started, struggling to catch up. "About that, Balthazar... Why exactly am I learning to manipulate the age of trees anyway? Am I going to progress to speeding up time? Or manipulating human ages? Or something with more use than the ability to make really great tree houses?"

The older man snorted, glancing behind him as the youth awkwardly stumbled through the grass. "No. The point is to experience the cycle of life. To accept the birth, aging and death of everything. To experience it quickly enough to see the changes time makes. That's it. All of your training isn't about being able to do magic tricks. Some is practical knowledge, some is theory."

"Okay. So I basically just wasted three hours learning to make a tree older for no reason."

"You didn't _waste_ anything. Manipulating plants has its uses, they just aren't always practical. But you're learning more than that. You're also learning to gauge what is worth manipulating. I find making plasma bolts and defensive shields to be much easier than changing living things. There are things we mess with and things we shouldn't. The best way to learn what shouldn't be tampered with is to realize that important things are very difficult to change. And if you _do_ manage it, they're even harder to reverse. The age of a plant is hard to manipulate. The age of an animal is even harder, which is a sign that it shouldn't be done." He smiled faintly. "The point of our existence isn't to play God. We don't mess with things like human ages. Or time."

"Oh. Well, that kind of sucks."

Balthazar glanced back at him, an odd look on his face. "Not really."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes until they reached the road. Balthazar had already hopped into the truck and started it when Dave suddenly froze in his tracks just outside the passenger door. "Wait. That doesn't make sense."

The older man sighed deeply and looked very much like he was about to hit his head on the steering wheel in frustration. "You know, for someone who wants to leave so badly, you're sure taking your sweet time. Just get in the truck. We can talk on the way home."

"Right." Dave whipped open his door, hopping in and buckling up, not willing to risk his life with Balthazar's driving. Before his belt had even clicked, the vehicle was in motion. A short ways down the road, the sorcerer stuck his hand out the window, tapping the truck lightly on its roof. Its ugly exterior immediately melted away as their "low profile" vehicle dissolved into a sleek black car.

Dave shook his head amused. "The truck wasn't good enough, huh? God forbid you drive something slow and ugly."

Balthazar ignored the comment. "Now," the sorcerer asked, "_what_ doesn't make sense?"

Dave just shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I was just thinking that it doesn't make sense to say we can't manipulate time or human age."

"Why? Do you think we _should _play God? Control everything around us?"

"No. It's not that."

"Then what?"

Dave silently studied his master a moment. Older, but not old. Middle-aged maybe. Longish dark blond hair, a layer of stubble on his chin that the man seemed incapable of shaving off. A few lines on his face placed by both time and stress, indicating that he wasn't exactly young. Yet at the same time, there was something ageless about him as well. "Exactly how old are you, Balthazar?"

"What?" Obviously that hadn't been the response he'd been expecting.

"You heard me. How old are you?"

Balthazar's eyes were focused on the road. "Exactly? I have no idea. It's been too long. 1500 years, 1550... Something like that. Why?"

Dave pressed on. "And how old were you when you began fighting Morgana?"

This time the older man's eyes shifted from the road for a moment to meet David's. "Somewhere in my thirties. Why?"

"How do you still look like you're in your thirties then? I mean, why aren't you an old, _old_ man?"

Balthazar stared back out at the road again, sighing. "I've explained this before. Merlin put us all in stasis. We were his fail-safe in case he died. He froze Horvath, Veronica, and my ages with the understanding that none of us would grow any older until Morgana was destroyed. We were all kind of trapped in time, I guess. Now that you've defeated her, we're back to normal...-ish. At very least, we can age normally. Which is a relief to me at least. It's hell watching the world change around you when you know that you aren't really a part of it." He paused, suddenly remembering where this conversation had been going in the first place. "_Why_?"

His apprentice shrugged. "Well, if Merlin could keep you young, then isn't that the same as manipulating time or ages or _something_?"

A faint smile played on Balthazar's lips. "Of course it is."

"But—" Dave sputtered. "But you just said—"

"I was talking about ordinary sorcerers, David, not about Merlin. Of course _he_ could safely manipulate human lifespans. Morgana tried her hand at is as well. She was much older than she looked even when _I_ was young. But that's complicated, _dangerous_ magic. Even I don't like to mess with that. There are some spells you don't try to find." His eyes darted from the road again to shoot Dave a sharp look. "I mean it, Dave. That isn't in your Incantus, and it's not there for a reason. Stick with plants. Got that?"

Dave just nodded. There were some times that you didn't push things with Balthazar. Clearly this was one of them.

"Good. I'll drop you off at your apartment."

They drove in silence for the rest of the trip, which, given the speed the sorcerer was driving, Dave found to be alarmingly short. In no time at all, they were sitting in front of the old building where Dave and his roommate lived. "All right. I'm going home. Get some rest." He shot Dave a sharp look. "And study."

"Wait. That's not fair! You said we were done for the day! I just spent three hours—"

"I didn't mean sorcery. I meant for physics or English or whatever it is that's been distracting you. You have some kind of test, right? Study for it. You have _one _week off." He held up one finger, just in case Dave wasn't capable of understanding the spoken word. "_One_. That's it. Then you're mine again. I can tell you'll be useless until those exams are over anyway."

"Wait. You're giving me a week off? For real? You?"

"And you'd better do _well,_" Balthazar continued gruffly, choosing to ignore the incredulity in David's voice. "I'm expecting perfect scores in exchange for this. _And_ you'd better plan on training harder than you ever have in your life afterward. This isn't a free-bee. You'll be paying through the nose for this."

Dave nodded, willing to agree to anything at the moment. "Yeah. That's great. I mean, that's fine. Thanks."

Balthazar's only response was a shrug. "Now get out of the car and get some rest."

Dave was gone in a flash. As soon as the boy was out of sight, Balthazar allowed a small smile to light onto his face. David was a good kid. Just young.

He finally pulled away from the curb and squealed back into traffic, wincing again at the pain in his shoulder and back.

Trying to ignore the fact that it had been hurting him all day.

* * *

_Author's Note: So, this is the first time in a VERY long time that I have attempted a chapter fic other than _Rurouni Kenshin _(Honestly, I think the only other non-_Ruroken _chapter fics__ I _have_ on here are from _Harry Potter... _back when book 5 was "coming soon" if that tells you anything...), so I'm a little nervous about this piece. I watched Disney's _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_ in theaters a few days ago, and _loved _it, which was funny given that it felt predictable and contrived at parts, which I tend to find annoying. But me, being the character obsessive that I am, fell in love with the character of Balthazar Blake and his relationship with his goofy little apprentice (I'm a sucker for that stuff *cough*HikoandKenshin*cough* -for those of you who read my other stuff). I've been scouring ff . net for good Balthazar and Dave fics, but given that it's a very new fandom, even with the great fics I'm finding I'm still running out of stuff to read. And so I bring you something new._

_To those who like my other stuff, hopefully you'll give this a chance and not be _too_ terribly disappointed that this isn't from my other fandoms. To those of you who don't know who I am and just want to read about Balthazar, I hope you enjoy this fic and aren't too terribly disappointed._

_And finally, to those of you who are wondering why my author's note is so irritatingly long... I'm shutting up now. I promise._

_Thanks so much for reading. Reviews would be appreciated._

_Dewa mata.  
_

_Sirius_

_P.S. A thank you to Kaytori for pointing out a time frame and ring issues. I think I've got it all fixed now. Thanks!_

_And a big thanks to lolo popoki for beta-ing this chapter for me! Especially since I begged her to do it when she hasn't even watched the movie yet... ^ _ ^;  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 2:**

It had been a week and a half since Dave had seen Balthazar. When Balthazar had called to cancel their practice on the first day after his allotted week off, Dave had just thought that his master was having a rare moment of sympathy. The training _had _been pretty intense lately, even coming from Balthazar, and Dave had been wearing himself out with both practice and studying.

When two more days had passed, Dave had assumed that Balthazar wasn't feeling well. Even sorcerers could catch a cold or get the flu. Thinking back, Dave realized that lately the man had seemed a little less energetic than usual, often sitting or resting against something while Dave ran through his moves.

But after four days, Dave was concerned. Even if he were dying, Balthazar wouldn't cancel four extra days of lessons. And this last time it hadn't even been Balthazar who had called. Veronica had given Dave the message. Which was why, even though he should have been enjoying his unexpected free time with Becky, who tomorrow would be leaving town to visit family for the summer, he was instead walking several blocks in the rain to the apartment building where Balthazar and Veronica now lived.

_This had better be good, _he thought to himself as he walked through the dark, wet streets, avoiding what puddles he could so that he didn't ruin his "old man shoes". Because he sure as hell wasn't paying for a new pair. If these got wrecked, he was stealing Balthazar's. He sighed as thoughts of his mentor resurfaced. For all of his irritation, Dave was mostly worried. He really didn't know Balthazar as well as he liked to think. Discounting their brief run-in a decade earlier, he really had only known the man a few months, although sometimes it felt like years. As though Balthazar really _were _the cranky uncle he pretended to be.

But during these past few days, Dave had realized that all he really knew of Balthazar's past was what pertained to the Grimhold. For all Dave knew, Balthazar may have been sick before he'd lost the ability to age. Something that his sudden freedom had triggered, causing him to fall ill once more. Or maybe this was some weird sorcerer thing where he had to duck out of existence every once in awhile. No big deal. Just weird and private.

Or maybe a thousand years of hell spent hunting down a boy who turned out to be nothing more than an inept apprentice had finally driven his master over the deep end. In retrospect, Dave really didn't know how Balthazar had managed to remain sane with all he'd gone through: his own master's death, the betrayal of his best friend, separation from the woman he loved for over a thousand years while he hunted for a boy whom he might never find. Most men would have gone mad long before this. Dave was pretty sure that the only reason Balthazar hadn't was because he was too stubborn to let insanity win. But was it possible that Dave's inability to actually _learn _anything lately had been enough to give his master a nervous breakdown?

Dave knew he was stretching things now. But he didn't like any of the other alternatives that were immediately coming to mind. Especially not coupled with his flashbacks of a hellish night months before when he'd almost lost Balthazar altogether.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the apartment building, a nice structure that Dave had never quite been able to figure out how Balthazar could afford. Apparently there was old money, a strong box, and a long series of past jobs that played a large role. It probably helped that until he'd had Veronica back, Balthazar had allowed himself to pretty much live in poverty. It wasn't like he had time for personal entertainments while he was trying to save the world. And it certainly wasn't like Balthazar was the sort to care much for modern conveniences. He was all about bare necessities. He probably wouldn't have changed his lifestyle at all if it weren't for Veronica. He would give her whatever she asked for. He was lucky that she was in general a practical woman, and that she cared enough to keep him in a more comfortable lifestyle than he'd allowed himself in the past.

David sighed. He had been standing outside getting thoroughly soaked while contemplating Balthazar's life for long enough. No more stalling. He had to know what was wrong. With a deep breath, Dave dipped into his pocket, fumbling with the spare key his master had given him, and finally let himself into the building. He made his way up to the fifth floor on foot, all the time fully aware that the real reason he'd skipped taking the elevator was to drag time out as much as possible before he reached their room. He wanted to know what was going on, but if something were _really _wrong... then maybe he didn't...

Time didn't drag long enough. A few moments more and he was standing in front of their door. One more deep breath and, ignoring the sick feeling he felt, Dave knocked.

No answer.

_How can they not be home? _Veronica had called less than an hour ago. He knocked again.

Nothing.

A thought struck the youth suddenly. Had they gone on some last minute vacation? Something Veronica had planned maybe? It would make sense. There was no way in hell that Balthazar would refuse her, although Dave was certain he'd normally put something like that off long enough to make alternate plans for practice. But maybe she'd surprised him. And with Balthazar's insistence that Dave only have one week off, Dave wouldn't put it past his master to just not tell him that the reason for extra free time was a pleasure trip.

Dave scowled. That had _better _not be the reason. He'd better not have been worrying for nearly a week over nothing. And he'd _better_ not have cut short his last day with Becky because of some secret anniversary or something that the older man had been dragged off to.

Then again, there were worse alternatives... Was a vacation really such a bad thing...?

He banged this time. Loudly. Then he shouted. "Come on. I know you're in there. Open up. It's Dave!"

Like they wouldn't know his voice. _If _they were there at all.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Resigned, he finally turned to walk away, ready to give Balthazar an earful whenever the man returned, when there was the soft sound of a latch clicking and the door creaking softly open. He whipped around, face to face with Veronica.

His heart dropped into his stomach at the sight of her expression, and all angry thoughts vanished. She looked tired. Far too tired. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good. He hadn't seen that look in months. And the last time he'd seen it had been one of the worst nights of his life. The night he'd almost lost one of his closest friends right when Dave had realized just how much he cared about what happened to the man.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Dave? What are you doing here? I told you that Balthazar decided to give you another day off. To let you rest... because you've been working so hard."

Dave stared at her incredulously. He was supposed to believe that? "Balthazar likes to surround himself with people who don't lie well, doesn't he?"

She glanced away and didn't respond, twirling a lock of her dark hair absently around her finger.

"Where is he, Veronica?" Dave tried to keep calm, but he knew his voice was betraying him. "He isn't giving me time off for good behavior. He doesn't do that. Balthazar could be on his deathbed and he'd make me train, even if I had to do it in your living room."

Veronica paled at those words, and the sick feeling in Dave's stomach intensified. "Veronica," he repeated, warily, "where is Balthazar?"

She sighed, stepping out into the hall, and quietly shutting the door behind her. "He's resting."

"Resting." He stared at her, running his hands through his dripping hair. "He's resting during the day?"

"He's sick." Dave opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him a chance. "And it isn't just a cold, David." Her eyes were deadly serious.

The icy knot in his stomach tightened. "Shit," he cursed softly. "I was afraid you were going to say that... It's bad, isn't it? I mean, he's real sick, right? Bad enough that you're making him stay home instead of training me. Bad enough that he's _agreed _to that."

She shook her head, looking tired. "No. It's bad enough that _he _made me call you to cancel."

They were both silent for a moment. So, _Balthazar_ had taken action against whatever this was. _He_ had decided to cancel training. This was another beast entirely. Dave broke the silence first. "I want to see him. Is he at least _okay _for now? Is he getting better? Worse? Has all this time off even helped him?" He floundered a moment, suddenly realizing the possible problem. "Has he even bothered seeing a doctor?" Knowing Balthazar, he hadn't.

She winced slightly. "No. A doctor won't be able to help. This isn't some normal illness." She leaned back against the wall beside the door, suddenly appearing exhausted, and he couldn't help feeling bad at his sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, realizing that this situation was as hard on her as it was on him. Harder, actually, since she actually knew what reason they had to _be _concerned. "I shouldn't be putting this all on you. I'm just worried. I've _been_ worried. What's wrong with him? How bad _is_ he?"

"He isn't bad yet, but he's not improving either. He's stable for the most part." She closed her eyes, resting her head on the wall behind her. Wrapping her arms around her body as though trying to lend herself comfort. "If nothing else, we think we know what's going on now. We've been trying to figure that out for days, so it was almost a relief today when we started putting things together."

Dave nodded. "Good. So, you guys are fixing it?"

She shook her head. "No. We aren't sure how. We're just coping with it right now. Making sure it doesn't change."

Dave nodded. "So, is this why he cancelled my practice? So you guys had time to figure things out? Not because he was too sick to train me?" One positive note at least. Balthazar was still okay... so far.

"He didn't want you to worry. This is taking a physical toll on him. If you'd have seen him, you'd have figured things out, and he didn't want you to know what's going on yet. He didn't see the point in worrying you if he could just fix it himself."

"And _Balthazar_ cancelling training wasn't supposed to worry me? If someone like him can't fix it himself... If it's bad enough that he's _hiding _from me, then I'm going to be worried, whether he wants me to be or not." He looked her in the eye. "I want to see him."

"That isn't a good idea, Dave. Just wait a few more days until we know more. It will be easier on everyone that way."

"And risk him getting worse? Veronica, I don't even know what's going on. It's like some secret club that I'm being excluded from here. With all due respect, I want to see him _now_. If he's sick, maybe I can help. There's got to be _something _I can do. What's the point of being the Prime Merlinian if I can't even save the people who matter to me?" He knew his voice was rising, but he didn't care. He was sick of all this secrecy. Especially when in pertained to Balthazar. "You said it isn't bad yet. I'd like to talk to him before it _is_... whatever '_it' _is in the first place."

Before Veronica could respond, the door whipped open and an irritable voice snapped, "Is it necessary to shout about this in the hall? This is an apartment complex. That means other people live here who'd probably like peace and quiet. People who I'd rather not have nosing into my personal life because they can hear you clearly through the walls. What do you not understand about _low profile_?"

"Balthazar!" Dave turned away from Veronica, relieved to hear his master at least sounding like himself if nothing else. Any other words he'd meant to say died in his throat when Dave actually saw him.

Balthazar was different. Though Veronica was right; he didn't appear ill. He _wasn't _"bad". In fact, he'd seem fine to anyone who didn't know him. Tired, maybe, but nothing a few good night's sleep wouldn't fix.

He appeared perfectly healthy... for a man in his fifties.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, hopefully this chapter was all you wanted and more... or at very least, hopefully you don't want to throw anything at me after reading it :P_

_A big thanks to lolo popoki and Kaytori for their invaluable beta work (and also a thank you to Kaytori for helping answer a bunch of questions when my memory of specific scenes and lines in the movie failed me!) And of course, thank you all for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it._

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 3:**

"Balthazar?" Dave asked, although it was obviously him. But this was impossible. He had gone from thirty-five to fifty-five years old... maybe even closer to sixty... in only a week and a half.

To be honest, the changes in his friend weren't drastic. The lines in his face had deepened, especially worry lines. The strong edge of his jaw had subtly softened. There was just a touch of silver at his temples, threading its way back through his hair.

He was in his mid-, maybe late fifties at most. His blue eyes were sharp, and he was still clearly in shape, not that Dave would expect any less from his master. And fifty-five wasn't really so old. Balthazar was still sitting at the edge of middle age. He was just at the wrong end of it now.

Why? And worse, when had it started? Dave guessed that it had been happening since their last few lessons a couple weeks ago when Balthazar had first begun slowing down, cutting lessons short. If that were the case, then at least it wasn't progressing at a dangerous pace. But what if he were wrong? If it had only started that first day that Balthazar had cancelled, then they didn't have much time to fix this.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me while you drip on the carpet, or are you coming inside?" Balthazar growled. His voice was only a touch rougher than it had been. Probably a recent change, and likely the reason Veronica had made the call for him this time.

Dave just nodded, still in shock, and entered through the door that his master held open for him. Veronica followed close behind, shutting the door and latching the lock behind them. Dave sent her a questioning look. They rarely bothered with the lock. The building itself was both locked and alarmed. And really, anyone who could actually be a danger to _them_ would not be deterred for a minute by a simple deadbolt.

"We set wards," Veronica responded at his questioning look. "The lock seals it. Makes the spell far less complex. Much easier to maintain." She shot a look in Balthazar's direction, and Dave had the impression that the wards had been set by _him_. And that they'd gone for simplicity just in case things became complicated later.

Balthazar had walked off to the bathroom during Veronica's explanation, returning a moment later with a towel that he tossed to Dave. "Here. Dry off."

Dave caught it. Dropped it. Picked it up again, and began drying himself as much as possible. When he looked slightly less like a flood victim, Balthazar motioned to an armchair, commanding in a short voice, "Sit", as he dropped onto the sofa.

His apprentice complied, still unable to take his eyes off of his master. Still trying to process how any of this was possible. "You're aging," he finally blurted out. It was possibly the stupidest thing that Dave had ever pointed out, but it was all that would come to mind. "Fast."

Balthazar only nodded, tactfully ignoring how pointless that comment had been. "For a couple weeks now. We're pretty sure it started sometime before your exams." Right to the point. _That_ hadn't changed about him, at least.

"You've known for _that_ long?" David snapped.

"Of course not," Veronica cut in, relieving the tension as quickly as possible. She had caught hold of one of Balthazar's hands, holding it tightly in both of hers. "We didn't even know what was happening until it started to really show. And that was only recently. He didn't look much different when he passed through his forties. He just didn't feel well. We thought it was the flu."

Dave relaxed slightly, still critically watching the older man, "You really don't look _that_ much different now to be honest." He shook his head to clear it. "So, what _is_ this? Some kind of weird wizard sickness?"

"I'm not a wizard, Dave. And no. It isn't a some kind of weird _sorcerer_ sickness, either."

"You know what I mean," David snapped. "Are you _sure_ that's not what it is? Maybe it's one you never heard of before. There might be a simple cure."

Balthazar squeezed Veronica's hand gently, his voice remaining level as he responded. "We aren't _sure_ about anything right now. We're basing most of this on guesswork. I was tired and sore our last few practices. It makes sense to say that it started around then. Once we figured that much out, we worked through the math. Seems to be one to two years per day. We should be able to pin it down after watching it a bit longer."

Dave glared at him. "So, we're supposed to just sit here, and when you hit, what, _eighty_, we'll decide for sure how fast it's working?"

"You're overreacting."

"I'm _overreacting_?" the boy shouted, jumping to his feet, dropping the towel to the floor. "How can I possibly _overreact_ when I discover that my mentor is _aging_ without me knowing it? Why didn't anyone _tell_ me? I'm your apprentice, aren't I? Don't I have the right to know when you're sick?"

Balthazar's voice was calm, but firm. "Sit down, Dave." He said nothing more until his apprentice reluctantly complied. "First of all, let me remind you that I am not your _mentor, _I am your _master_. Secondly, because of that fact, I don't actually have to tell you anything." He held up his hand to silence Dave before he could respond with an angry retort. "However, I did intend to explain this to you when we actually knew what was going on, ourselves. I didn't see the point in worrying you before we could answer the questions I knew you'd ask."

Dave took a deep breath. "Okay. That's logical, not that I _like_ it. So, how about some of those questions? How about this one: Why? Or maybe, how can we stop it?"

Veronica cut in quietly, "We don't know, David. That's why—"

"Why he kept me out of it."

He shot an angry look at Balthazar, but the older man could see through it, and didn't allow himself to respond as he normally would have. Dave's anger was his way of covering up panic. Which meant, though his apprentice _was_ overreacting, Balthazar had to do his best to keep his own temper under control. He remained silent as Dave continued railing on him.

"What if it began speeding up, Balthazar? Were you going to wait until you were dying to tell me? Or were you going to leave _that_ to Veronica, too?"

A muscle tightened in his master's jaw, but still the man attempted to suppress his own rising anger, reminding himself that a plasma bolt would _not_ be the appropriate response right now. Especially not in his apartment. "I _am_ dying," was his tight response.

David immediately fell silent.

"Think about it. Even if I'm only aging a year for each day... Even if this stays _stable_... I probably have about a month left. Maybe a little more if I'm lucky."

"You mean we have a month to _fix_ it." Veronica's voice was sharper than Dave had ever heard it before.

"Veronica," Balthazar replied, a tired tone to his voice, "not now. We've gone over this. I'm not meddling in these things. The reason this is happening in the first place is because Merlin miscalculated with the Forbidden Realm. Even with his control, it wasn't perfect, and it's wearing off. You aren't going to be able to control it better than Merlin, and who knows _what_ could happen if something goes wrong. The process could speed up." He was on his feet and pacing.

"We don't _know_ that, Balthazar." Her frustrated voice was sharp.

This was the first time Dave had ever seen them fight. Proof that as cool as Balthazar had been playing it, as calm as Veronica had been acting, both of them were under more stress than they had been allowing him to see. And that bothered Dave even more, because if _they_ were worried about something, then things were generally far worse than they were letting on. Dave had suspected that was the case, but hadn't been sure until now. In fact, he had the distinct impression that this was an old argument. A continuation of something they'd probably been discussing for the past week.

Merlin's name was thrown out again, pulling Dave's attention back to their words. "Wait," he said, interrupting them. "How is this Merlin's fault? I thought he was infallible or something."

Both sorcerers fell silent at Dave's words like two parents suddenly realizing that their children were listening in during a fight.

"No one is infallible," was Balthazar's soft reply. His eyes were tired, as he sat back down beside Veronica, wrapping his arm around her. The fight was over. Stress could make them bicker, but that was all. There had been no heat to their argument. Not really. Just two strong opinions butting heads. Not that this meant they weren't still _irritated _with each other.

"_Balthazar,_" Veronica began, shooting him a silencing glare, "thinks that the reason this started is because he took too long in finding you."

Dave sat up straighter, staring at the sorcerer. "_What_? How could you have done it any earlier? I was _ten_ when I wandered into your shop! Were you supposed to find me as a baby?"

Balthazar cut in. "Unlike fantasy novels imply, sorcerers are only humans with different abilities and potential. Our lifespan isn't much longer than anyone else's. So, for us to be able to defeat Morgana, Merlin had to put us into stasis to buy us extra time, which for me meant that I couldn't age until I found you." He closed his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. "I doubt he expected me to take so long. The spell wasn't built to protect me for so many years. It's unraveling."

"You _think,_" Veronica interjected.

"Unraveling?" Dave blinked at his master. "I thought it just sort of dropped off of you or something."

"The magic had layers. One layer's function was to stop the process entirely, or at least slow it enough so that it wasn't noticeable; nothing can stop aging forever. _That_ was the one that 'dropped off'. But there was a second layer that functioned as a buffer of sorts to keep us aging at a normal rate when we were finally freed from the other. Apparently the second layer must be crumbling, and it's taking me down with it."

Dave just stared at him a moment. All he'd really gotten out of that was something about a buffer, multi-layer magic, and the strong impression that Balthazar had never enjoyed his near immortality. The rest had been lost on him. "Think you could try that again in my language?"

"Scientifically?" Balthazar's brow furrowed, drawing Dave's attention again to the clear lines on his master's face. After a few moments of trying to work out a good comparison, he finally responded, "No. Not really."

His apprentice sighed. Of course not. Because he wanted to understand _this _explanation more than any of Balthazar's others. Because _this_ pertained directly to something he cared about. So, of course _this_ was the first time Balthazar couldn't translate for him. "What happened to 'magic is science'?"

"_Mostly_ science."

"It's like this," Veronica interjected, startling them both. She'd been quiet for so long, Dave had almost forgotten that she was there. "Imagine it's winter. Balthazar should have been cold ages ago, but Merlin gave him two blankets to keep him warm. The first one is off now, so he should slowly cool down like everyone else does, but we didn't realize until now that the blanket under it had rotted away, so now he's freezing too quickly." She shot Balthazar a significant look. "And he won't let me look for another blanket."

Both David and Balthazar just stared at her for a moment. She glanced at Dave. "I don't know enough modern science to explain any better," she apologized.

"Actually," Dave responded slowly, "that made sense... but..." He paused, trying to think of the most tactful way to continue, "Why isn't your blanket falling apart, too?" He shot her an apologetic glance. "No offense."

She smiled faintly at him, leaning against Balthazar as his grip around her tightened a touch at those words. "When Balthazar put me into the Grimhold, he essentially froze me in time. His spell was extra protection on top of Merlin's. A third blanket, I suppose. One that protected the other magic along with me. So, I'm fine, but there was no one around to protect Balthazar. He felt the brunt of the years. That's what wore away at his magic."

"Well, can't you protect him now? Is it possible to freeze his age again until we can fix it?"

"I don't know," Veronica sighed, shooting an irritated look at Balthazar. "He won't let me try."

Balthazar's expression didn't change. "It could just make things worse. I'm not risking that."

Dave shook his head. "How could they possibly get worse?"

"We aren't freezing my age again. That's final. Remember our last lesson. There are things you don't mess with. I'm the tree. Merlin modified my lifespan. These are the consequences. And I've told you before, it's even harder to reverse. If we try, we're likely to cause even more problems. This is why we don't play God. You tip the scale one way, and nature will balance it out for you if it isn't fixed quickly. Apparently a thousand years wasn't quickly enough."

"It would give us more time, Balthazar. It's not forever," Veronica cut in.

"And if you make a mistake?"

With those words, she fell silent.

"So what do we _do_?" David moaned in frustration, leaning forward with his face in his hands. He was starting to feel nauseous. Balthazar was dying. Slowly, but inevitably unless they could find a way to reverse it. And all anyone could offer were dizzying explanations that made almost no sense to him. All he was able to solidly focus on was the fact that right now, while they'd been sitting here having this stupid conversation, Balthazar had probably lost another few weeks of his life. "I swear I'm going to be sick."

"Don't throw up on the carpet."

David glared up at his master. "You aren't _helping, _Balthazar. Just tell me how I can help, so I can do it. You're usually so good at bossing me around. I'm asking for it this time. What can I _do_?"

"Nothing." Dave's mouth opened immediately to protest, but Balthazar continued, raising his own voice to drown him out. "Until we have a better idea of what's going on, there's nothing that can be done. Think scientific method. We've asked the question and done what background research we could. Now we have a hypothesis, so we have to test it. We can't just skip steps. Plus, we don't need to add more variables that can throw the whole thing out of whack. Like it or not, "fixing" things we don't understand counts as a variable. Got it?"

"Balthazar, do you just flip through my science books to _find_ ways to throw the science of magic in my face?" He shook his head. "Wait. Forget it. Stupid question. Of _course_ you do."

"I was a college professor of science in the early 1900s, Dave. I don't need to look things up unless you want to start bothering me with astrophysics. Your Tesla coils? I was there when Edison was trying to shut him down." He paused, a small smile playing on his lips as he added, "And the scientific method isn't exactly new."

"Wait. You were a—You never told me that you—"

"But the _point,_" Balthazar interrupted, "is that we are going to wait. One more week isn't going to kill me."

"_Balthazar._"

He winced. "Bad choice of words. I'm serious, though. Life goes on as we know it until then. Got it?"

Dave nodded shortly, glaring at the floor. He still felt sick. Veronica said nothing.

"Good. Then tomorrow we'll start practicing again. Consider the last week and a half your summer vacation."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" The words burst out of David without his even meaning to say them. "We're going to _train_? While we're dealing with _this_?"

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, commenting dryly, "What was it you so clearly shouted throughout the apartment complex earlier? That I'd train you if I were on my deathbed? Well, I'd hate to prove you wrong. In fact, I'd even have you practice in my living room, since you seemed so partial to that, except that I don't think my landlords would be very impressed if I burned Merlin's Circle into the carpet. And I'm pretty sure it would set off the smoke detectors."

"Not funny."

"Tomorrow at 8am, then." He stood and picked up Dave's towel from the floor. The movement was not as smooth as usual, and Dave didn't miss that. There were other changes happening inside his master that hadn't been mentioned. He hoped that they weren't more than a few stiff joints, but he had no way of knowing. And asking his mentor would do nothing except make the man hide things even more carefully.

"Practice at eight... Balthazar, are you _insane_?"

"I thought we already established that."

His apprentice stood, face to face with his mentor. "This is more than just a 'little bit'", he snapped, holding his finger and thumb about an inch from each other as his master had once done for him. He looked desperately over at Veronica who still sat on the couch. "Can't you talk some sense into him?"

She shook her head. "What do you think I've been trying to do for the past four days?"

Balthazar watched his apprentice, unruffled. Touched by the boy's concern. Refusing to show it. "David, we are practicing. We can start earlier if you really want to spend the day helping. But we are practicing. You can't afford to stop now that you're progressing so well."

Dave paused, startled by Balthazar's almost-compliment. "I... am? You think I'm progressing?"

Balthazar ignored him, folding the towel. "Anyway, I'm only in my fifties. You can bet that if I'd been fifty when I'd met you, that I'd still have made you my apprentice. And I doubt that you'd have had any issues with it in that case. Save your arguments for when I'm eighty."

"This isn't the same thing, Balthazar. You wouldn't have been getting months older while I spent a few hours learning how to levitate a chair! I'm not wasting time on magic when you're _dying_."

Irritation flashed clearly in Balthazar's eyes. "Then I'd suggest practicing in your spare time as well. Maybe you can save me a few months."

"Or we could just worry about one problem at a time!"

Balthazar's voice finally raised. "That's what I'm _trying_ to—"

"Stop it." Veronica's quiet, firm voice rang out across the room. "Both of you."

Both turned to Veronica, snapping in unison, "_Reason_ with him."

She shook her head. "No. You're adults. Work it out yourselves."

David glared at the older man, yanking the towel from his hands. "I'm going to the bathroom," he snapped, stomping off down the hall.

Balthazar stared after him a moment, then sighed, his anger fading. Could he really fault the boy when he knew that David was only arguing out of concern for his health? He walked back over to the sofa, and dropped back down next to Veronica, leaning forward as Dave had earlier, face in his hands. He'd promised himself he'd remain calm. As soon as he'd heard Dave banging on the door, he'd told himself that whatever the boy said, he would _not_ react. He would just take it and act like this was a simple problem with an easy solution. That they would just have to monitor it like any other illness. He'd only wanted to protect his apprentice from the same stress he and Veronica had been facing. Why _was_ it that this kid could get under his skin so quickly?

Veronica gently placed her hand on his shoulder, sliding it across his back, and wrapping it around him in a gentle hug. "I can't believe how like you he is."

He glanced up at her, saying nothing.

She smiled at him. "I remember when you'd try arguing with Merlin. Insisting you were right, even though he wouldn't listen to you."

His lips twitched slightly as he held back a small smile. "The _one_ time I tried it, you mean? I was never that foolish again."

She laughed softly, bringing her hand up to his face, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes.

He shook his head, straightening. "This kid's better at it than I was apparently."

"No," she replied, her smile growing. "You're just closer to him."

He snorted softly, looking away.

"It's true," she insisted gently. "I never expected to see another master and apprentice as close as you and Merlin were... until I saw how you and David interact. If you were telling people that you were his father instead of his uncle, I think they would believe it."

"So why does he keep _fighting_ me on everything? And don't tell me he's in his 'rebellious stage'. I don't let him get away with _anything_. You'd think by now he'd have learned—"

"It's because he knows your limits better than you do. He knows how far he can push you. And he respects you enough not to cross that line. But he's stubborn enough to step as close to it as he can. If it's any consolation, I don't think he realizes he's doing it."

"He's _too_ stubborn," Balthazar growled.

Her hand brushed softly against his cheek. "I wonder where he learned that from..." She caught his eyes again. "He's worried about you Balthazar. That's what this is about. He's worried you'll push yourself too hard. Your apprentice has a good heart." Her warm smile spread. "I think he learned _that_ from the same person."

"I just want to protect him. Both of you. This could get ugly."

"I know." Her eyes grew concerned, her smile sad. "I still remember that _one_ time you tried arguing with Merlin. You were in the right—we all knew it—but he said the same thing. That he was trying to protect you. And you were _so _angry, you wouldn't speak to him for a week. It's funny. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd have just trusted your judgment." She sighed. "A week's an awful long time for us right now, isn't it, Balthazar?" She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, kissing her gently on the top of her head.

At that moment, Dave walked into the room. "Balthazar, you're out of toilet pap—" At the sight of the couple, he flushed and turned away, feeling as he would if he'd just caught his parents in some compromising position. "Well, this is awkward," he muttered.

Balthazar looked up, studying Dave silently for a moment.

Misinterpreting the look, his apprentice raised his hands in mock surrender. "I can go back in the bathroom if you want. Leave you guys alone. If that's what you... you know..."

Veronica pulled away, smiling faintly at Dave. "I'm going to get something to drink. Would you like anything, David?"

"Ahh... No. Thank you." He watched her walk away, confused by the sudden change in mood. "Did I miss something?"

Balthazar sighed. "Three days."

Dave shook his head, now even more confused. "Wait. What? I _did_ miss something, didn't I?"

"I'll give you three more days off... to help... if you want. That rounds it off to a two week break." His expression was tired. "But that's all I'm giving you."

Dave's eyes widened. Impossible. Balthazar was actually compromising? "Yes. That's... that's great. Three days is great. I'll do whatever you need..."

"After that we train," his master interrupted. "No matter what. Do you understand me? I'm not changing my mind again."

"Yeah. That's fine. But will you be—"

"Late-sixties at most," the sorcerer responded, already knowing where that question was going. "I'll be fine." He shot Dave a stern look. "Even though I'm not training you right now, you _will _be practicing. Do you understand? Every day. On your own time. You already had your vacation."

His apprentice nodded, his stubborn frustration having completely dissipated. Eager to agree to anything his master demanded as long as it helped. Veronica had been right. This boy was just as he had been with Merlin. All his apprentice had wanted was a compromise, because he believed he was right. "Then go home and get your things."

Dave stared blankly at his master. "My... things?"

"You're going to be staying here in the spare room. I don't need to be wasting 'weeks of my time' as you put it, searching for you around the city, because you decide to go for a coffee when I need you. You can go home when it's over." He sent Dave an assessing look. "I assume that will work for you?"

His apprentice nodded. "Sure. Anything." He moved immediately to the door. "I'll go now. Be back as soon as I can. I have to find Bennett and make sure he'll feed Tank for me. And I'm going to say goodbye to Becky. She's leaving in a couple hours." With that, he was out the door.

Before it closed entirely, Balthazar barked out one last order, "Call if you're going to be late!" He shook his head and leaned back on the sofa as the door clicked shut. That boy would be the death of him. A small smile graced his face. But he was a good kid. An excellent apprentice. He couldn't wait to see what sort of man he'd turn out to be. His eyes grew serious. He hoped he'd live long enough to see that.

From the kitchen, Veronica smiled to herself. _So much alike...

* * *

_

_Author's Note: Well, here it is... Chapter 3. Hopefully it's up to specs. A big thanks to Kaytori and lolo popoki for their beta work (and to FrostPhoenix for putting up with me rereading the first half of the chapter to her repeatedly, then making her "assess" it for me!)_

_Also, thanks to you all for reading! (Short author's note for a change... from _me_ of all people... What is this world coming to?) ^ _ ^;_

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius:)_

_P.S. If you don't have an account and would like review responses, feel free to drop me an email, so I could respond there. I'd suggest you throw the email on the review, but I think might just delete it on you. Just FYI. Thanks again.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 4:**

Dave fidgeted uncomfortably on the hard seat outside the office of Dr. J. Alanson, the head of the pathology department at NYU. He'd been waiting there forever. He'd had no idea what time it was since his cell battery had died about half an hour ago, but at that time it had already been about 20 minutes past the end of the professor's office hours. And the same guy was still in there arguing over the grade on his final.

_If _I_ were the professor, I'd have just failed him by now..._

The youth sighed, hoping the man would even let him in after this. It wasn't as though he'd ever even had this professor before. But according to Bennett, this guy was the best pathologist on the east coast. Of course, Bennett was basing this largely on his last girlfriend's opinion. Dave just hoped that she was right. Because otherwise he was going to make a _complete_ idiot out of himself for no reason.

_The things I do for you, Balthazar_. But he'd gladly do it again if it would help the man. How many times had his mentor saved his own life (ignoring the fact that it probably wouldn't have needed saving in the first place if not for Balthazar)? Dave fully intended to return the favor in whatever way was necessary. He wouldn't let his master go down without a fight. He winced at that thought, trying to clear his mind, but it was no use. Ever since this afternoon when Balthazar had so bluntly pointed out that he was dying, Dave had been continually flashing back to the night the man _had_ died, no matter how brief it had been.

David had been so distracted by worry since that conversation that when he'd said goodbye to Becky, she'd grown concerned, and he'd had to tell her that he was sick. He refused to let her know what was going on here. She didn't need to be worrying about him while she was gone. And now that she was finally getting used to Balthazar... even warming up to him a bit, Dave didn't want Becky worrying about _both _of them. Anyway, by the time she returned, it would either be fixed... or too late...

One month... They only had one month, give or take, to not only figure out _what_ was happening, but also why. And most importantly, how to stop it.

Dave was so lost in thought that he completely missed the fact that the whiner had left the professor's office, and the poor man had finally packed up.

It wasn't until he heard a tired, "Was there something you needed?" that Dave noticed the professor standing stiffly over him. He was very old with a head of thinning grey hair and a narrow, heavily lined face. He was by no means feeble, but well past retirement age. Dave had to glance away. This man was probably around eighty. And, like it or not, if nothing were done soon, this would be Balthazar in a matter of weeks. The young apprentice felt sick.

"I'm assuming _I'm_ the one you're waiting for, given that everyone else has left," the professor commented dryly at the boy's lack of response, a note of irritation in his voice now.

"Sorry," Dave responded quickly. Flushing uncomfortably, he stood. "Dr. Alanson?"

The old man scrutinized him through intense blue eyes. "Are you from one of my lectures?"

Dave was tempted to say yes to avoid at least a little embarrassment, but he knew that the professor would probably be able to see the lie on his face just like everyone else apparently could. "No," he muttered. "I just need to talk to you."

The man raised his bushy grey eyebrows as he checked his watch. "Can't this wait until tomorrow? I have—"

"No!" Dave interrupted, sharply. Then he stopped, horrified. Mentally berating himself. _Great job, you moron. He already doesn't want to talk to you. Shouting at him is a _perfect_ way to change his mind. Idiot. _"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, desperately trying to fix the situation. "It's just... tomorrow is too long. It's really important. It's about a friend... who's sick." He paused again, his voice growing a touch desperate. "He's dying. And we don't know why. I thought maybe you..." He trailed off, realizing how stupid this all sounded. He'd already blown his chances with the man. Best to leave it at that. He sighed. "Forget it. I'm sorry for bothering you. I just didn't know what else I could do..." He'd already half turned to leave when the man's voice, a touch gentler, broke in behind him.

"Dying? You're sure?"

Dave turned to stare at him, nodding slowly. Surprised at this chance to continue. "We think he has maybe a month. We aren't sure... but not much longer..."

"Come in." The man's voice was brusque as he turned back into his office, flipping the light back on, and tossing his briefcase onto an empty chair. "Shut the door," he said when Dave entered. "And sit."

He pulled his own chair out and lowered himself into a seat as well. He stretched out a hand to Dave. "Dr. Alanson, as you obviously know. And you are...?"

Dave shook his hand as he dropped into a chair across the desk from the professor. "David Stutler," he replied. "Thanks for helping."

Alanson raised an eyebrow, studying the boy in front of him. "Don't thank me yet. We don't even know if I'm going to be able to help." He pulled out a pen and scribbled on a notepad quickly to get the ink flowing. "Right. Let's not waste time, then. How do you know that your friend is dying? Did his doctor tell you that?"

Dave fidgeted awkwardly. "No. He won't see one. But his symptoms..." Dave hesitated, realizing suddenly that in all the time he'd been waiting to see the professor, it hadn't occurred to him to actually plan out what to say. And anything he said now was likely to sound ridiculous...

"Which are...?" His pen was poised.

Dave winced, knowing how stupid this was going to sound. "He's getting old."

The professor didn't bat an eye. "That doesn't sound like much of a symptom. I'm getting old, too. We all are. In fact, technically you and I are dying of old age as we speak. We all started dying at birth." He paused at Dave's pained expression. "That's not what you mean, though." It wasn't a question. "You're going to have to be more specific if you want my help."

Dave nodded, trying to find a clear way to explain without having to bring up the fact that the friend they were discussing happened to be a fifteen hundred-year-old sorcerer who wouldn't let them test magic on him until they knew for sure what the problem was. "He's aging... fast. He's going to die if we don't figure something out soon. He's only thirty-five, but he looks like he's pushing sixty now. And it's only been a week or two since it started. We don't even know _why._"

The old man listened carefully, tapping his pen against the blotter on his desk, considering. "Without checking on him myself, or at very least having a doctor look him over and make an assessment, it's almost impossible to even make guesses." He sighed. "It sounds like some form of adult progeria. In some ways, it seems a little like Werner's syndrome."

"Werner's syndrome?"

He set the pen neatly beside the blank pad of paper. "Basically, it's when adults begin showing symptoms of aging before their time. Werner's generally affects teenagers, but it's not unheard of to have it kick in during a person's middle years, so your friend would be in the right age bracket. Still... I've never heard of Werner's running at such a rapid rate..." He fiddled with his wedding band, his brow furrowed, deep in thought. "The fastest I've ever heard it run is about 40 years to a single year of life. But that was an extreme case. And if your friend has already aged around 20 years in a couple of weeks..." He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Dave by this point. "Perhaps an accelerated form of the disease? But that would be an oddity in an already rare syndrome... If he had such an intense form of the disease, I'd assume he'd have started showing signs before now. Thirty years seems to be a long time to go with no symptoms if his system were so strongly effected..."

Dave shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Thirty years is long? Pretty sure it's not that, then..."

The older man raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "All right. We can probably safely discard Werner's..." He picked up the pen again, back to his thoughtful tapping on the desk. "Rapid aging. Perhaps an extreme reaction to some sort of cancer? Or maybe..." His eyes met Dave's. "Has he had any long-term exposure to radiation? Something that might have had the chance to modify his DNA over time?"

The boy stared at him blankly for a moment. Radioactive rapid aging? This was starting to sound like a comic book. "I don't know. I don't think so..." He thought back to all those plasma bolts. The spells that had torn through him during the fight with Morgana. Did magic count as radiation? Did thousands of years of fighting malicious magic count? Or even without magic... Balthazar had lived through centuries when no one knew anything about cancers and radiation... "Maybe." He sighed. "I'm sorry. He's kind of closed-lipped about his younger days. He _could _have. I could ask him..."

Alanson nodded. "That might not be a bad idea. Really, most pathologies that I can think of involving aging usually affect children, not adults. And even those aren't _true_ aging. The victims show some _effects_ of early aging, such as thinning hair, cataracts, aching joints, heart problems, and the like. But they only really show about half of the normal symptoms old age." He shook his head. "Some sort of forced mutation of the DNA itself is more likely. Something that could have affected the telomeres." At Dave's blank expression, he explained. "Each time a cell divides, small bits of the DNA, the telomeres, are snipped off the ends. There's nothing vital in this bit of DNA, but after awhile, there's not enough left to trim, so the cell just stops its normal dividing. Cells begin aging at the point when they can no longer properly replicate themselves, and that's when the body starts showing signs of aging as well. Now..." He leaned forward. "What I'm proposing is that something, I'm guessing some form of radiation, has gone through his system and has trimmed the DNA past the point of replicating. So his cells abruptly age and so does he..."

Dave nodded, encouraged. At least they had a starting point. "So, how do we stop it?"

The professor stared at him quietly a moment, giving Dave a serious look. He set the pen down on his desk. He'd never written one word on the paper. "You can't just regrow DNA. When it's gone, that's it."

The sick feeling Dave had felt while talking with Balthazar earlier returned. "What do you mean, 'That's it'?"

The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'd love to say I can help more, but unfortunately we're not at the point where doctors can fix everything. If I'm right and his DNA was damaged to the extent where it's stopped multiplying, you can't just start it up again. It's not scientifically possible."

"So you're saying that he's dying and no one can fix it?" Dave burst out. "That's it? I'm just supposed to give up and go home and tell him tough luck because his DNA decided to give out on him?"

Alanson stood abruptly, avoiding eye contact with the obviously upset boy, and grabbed his briefcase. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help. I really do."

Dave fell into a stunned silence, his eyes unfocused. His thoughts running rampant.

Dr. Alanson put a hand on Dave's shoulder. "I need to go, now. I'm sorry."

Dave just nodded and stood mechanically, the moment of anger passed. He was growing numb. "Thanks," he finally managed to mumble out. "I'm sorry to have bothered you for nothing..."

He walked to the door and had just pulled it open when the man's voice rang quietly out one last time behind him, "I could be wrong, you know. If you think you can help him, then I'd say to keep looking. Someone might be able to do it. Somewhere. Men only use about ten percent of their brains, but they learn a bit more every day." He sighed. "I hope you find a way to help your friend... Have a good night, David."

"Thanks," Dave replied softly. "You, too." And with that he slipped out of the office and into the hall, his heart heavy in his chest. _"When it's gone, that's it..." _Dave's hands balled into tight fists. _That_ can't_ be it, though. How can a sorcerer have the ability to bring a man back from a violent death, but still not be able to save a man from aging? It doesn't even make _sense...

He scowled, walking through the hallways of the huge science building until he finally arrived at the exit. Pushing the door open, he slipped outside, oblivious to the laughter of nearby students. _Nothing we can do... I don't buy that..._

His mind drifted back to his conversation with the old man as he made his way down the wet sidewalk in the direction of his and Bennett's apartment. In all the chaos, he'd forgotten to grab his things. Now, more than ever, Dave was glad he was staying at Balthazar's place. If this _was _it...

He shook his head. _No. Stop thinking like that. Alanson said he could be wrong. He's only human. The people who came up with this stuff are only human... _Dave froze in the middle of the sidewalk, almost getting plowed over by a girl on a bike. He ignored the angry shout as she swerved out of the way. _Normal humans only use ten percent of their brains... but sorcerers like us... _ A small swelling of hope filled him. _Especially sorcerers as powerful as _them_. Maybe they just didn't know this stuff. The telomeres. Once Balthazar and Veronica know what they have to fix, they can go and do it. _Of course. Balthazar wouldn't let Veronica try to fix things because she didn't know what she was fixing. But now... this wouldn't be a variable. They'd just have to check his telomeres with whatever magic testing things they knew, and if that really _was _the problem, then Balthazar would _have_ to agree to let Veronica at least freeze his age until they could fix the it.

He grinned and picked up his pace, more at ease than he'd been for the past several hours.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know... no Balthazar. Apologies to all who are saddened by this. But be assured that there is more of him to come._

_Anyway, a big thanks to lolo popoki and Kaytori for their incredible beta work (and dedication to keeping me from writing utter garbage). And a big thanks to you all for reading. Please review (feed my muse! Hehe... ^ _ ^;; )._

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 5:**

"Where the hell is he?" Balthazar growled, irritated, checking his watch for the tenth time in half an hour. "How long does it take to grab clothes and make sure a dog is fed?" He sat on the sofa, his laptop propped on his lap. Hands resting on the keyboard. Eyes fixed on the door in front of him. He had half a word typed into the search engine. It had been like that for the past five minutes.

Veronica, who was quietly curled up on the armchair, glanced up from the Incantus she'd been studying, and sighed. "Didn't he say he was going to say goodbye to Becky, too?"

"And how long does _that_ take?"

"How long would _you _have taken if you'd been given a chance to say goodbye to me?"

That silenced him, and Veronica went back to the heavy book on her lap.

The quiet lasted barely a minute. "He has a cell phone." He was glaring at the door again. "What's the point of having technology if he isn't going to use it? And what's the point of having him here if I'm _still_ going to have to track him down throughout the city every time he's late?"

"How can he be late? You didn't give him a time."

"It's after dark in Manhattan," he grumbled. "There are people out there, like Horvath, who would love to kill him. I didn't think I had to be so specific. I _assumed_ he'd have at least enough common sense to understand that until we know where Horvath is, he shouldn't wander around alone at night."

"Balthazar," she said, a trace of frustration finally creeping into her voice. "He's a grown man. And I'm sure he will be here soon. I don't understand what you're so worried about."

"I'm not worried. I'm annoyed. I told him to call." He finally shifted his glare to the computer screen again, and began typing, his fingers pounding on the keyboard as though it were personally responsible for his apprentice's absence.

A flicker of a smile twitched at Veronica's lips as she flipped a page. She coughed, trying to cover it.

He noticed anyway. "What?"

She smiled. "Nothing. Go back to whatever it is you're doing on that thing."

He didn't buy it, and a bit of the irritation fled from his eyes, replaced with curiosity. His voice was gentler this time. "You were laughing at something. I know that look of yours. What?"

"I was just thinking back to an old conversation we'd had..."

He stared at her. "Old conversation...?"

That twitch of her lips again. "About having children." At his blank stare, she added, "I was just thinking that I don't know why you were so concerned that our stasis might have stopped us from being able to have children when you've obviously already claimed that boy as your own."

"_Veronica_," he growled, eyes flashing. "He's my apprentice. That's all. He's not my _son. _But I have a right to know where my _apprentice_ is. And what he's doing." He paused a moment, worked up now. "And he _damn_ well had better learn to listen to me or else he won't be leaving his room until he does."

Veronica's dark eyes twinkled and her smile only grew.

Before the sorcerer could properly respond to what he _knew_ was implied in _that_ expression, there was a brief knock, meant to function more as a warning than a request to enter. Seconds later, the door swung open and Dave walked in, wet and hauling a heavy canvas duffel bag that was clearly filled with as many books as it was clothes. He shut the door behind him, and dropped the bag to the floor with a loud thud. "It decided to start pouring again right when I got to your street," he announced irritably, shaking the rain out of his hair like a wet dog.

"If you'd have made it here earlier, that wouldn't have been a problem, Dave."

"_Balthazar,_" Veronica interrupted, exasperated.

The man didn't grace her with a response this time, only shifting the laptop to the sofa cushion beside him and getting to his feet.

Dave looked up, puzzled, finally making eye contact. "What?"

"You're late."

The boy stared at him blankly. "I'm... what? Late for what?"

Balthazar ignored him, motioning to the awkward sack that his apprentice had dumped on the floor beside him. "What's that?"

Dave's expression grew even more confused. "My... things...?" he replied, tentatively, clearly still trying to work out what his master's sudden problem with him was. "Have I done something offensive here?" He sent a questioning look toward Veronica who only sighed and dove back into the Incantus.

"_One_ bag is supposed to last you a month?"

All of the strain from the past few hours had worn Dave's nerves too thin to deal with his master's unexpected flare-up, and unable to take it anymore, the young sorcerer snapped, "This coming from a fifteen hundred-year-old man who owned no more than two nearly identical outfits and a set of old man shoes for any span of time until he got married three months ago." He turned to lock the door, allowing the wards to reset, while trying to cool his temper down. Reminding himself that Balthazar was under even more strain that _he_ was. That this sort of stress would have normal men going insane. That even with this random outburst, Balthazar had been staying remarkably calm for a man who was suddenly, inexplicably, racing toward death.

It was hard to remember all of that when the man wouldn't lay off for ten seconds.

"Unlike most old men you meet," the sorcerer continued, "I actually _did_ live through the Dark Ages. And this might come as a surprise, but we didn't exactly have Wal-Mart back then. Most of us didn't have much of anything. That's one of the reasons it was 'dark'."

The boy rolled his eyes, turning back toward him. "This is starting to sound an awful lot like that old 'walking to school uphill both ways' spiel. Only in ancient Europe," he muttered. "Anyway, I thought you nobles in your fancy castles had the best. And then adding magic to that..." He crouched to untie his wet shoes, so he wouldn't track mud through the apartment.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, a touch of amusement now coloring his voice. "And what makes you think I was a noble? The castle was Merlin's, not mine."

Dave froze, then looked up. "_You_ told me."

"When did I say that?"

"You..." Dave sputtered. "When you told me Veronica's story... you said that—"

"She and Horvath were nobles," his master finished, an odd tone to his voice. "I said _nothing_ about what I was."

Dave shot a glance at Veronica who was watching the exchange silently, the Incantus now resting forgotten on her lap, her expression unreadable.

The man continued, his voice a touch distant. "In my village, more than two sets of clothes were not only excessive, but unheard of. We weren't expected to dress well. We were expected to work fields and do as we were told."

"Wait..." Dave studied the obviously well-educated man before him. "Are you trying to tell me you were a _slave_ or something?"

Balthazar bristled at that. "We were called serfs," he replied shortly, irritated with himself for allowing the conversation to digress so far. Especially in _this _direction. "And you're missing the point."

Dave shook his head, dumbfounded. "I can't see you as a slave or serf... or whatever you were called..."

Balthazar scowled, trying to draw his apprentice back to the original conversation. "The _point_," he continued, "is that you're _not_ used to living like I did. I highly doubt you're going to be able to live on whatever's in there. And I don't want you running back to your apartment every other day to pick things up. It'll just cut into your practicing time. You're going home to get the rest of your things tomorrow. Now," he pointed down the hall. "Spare room. Go."

Dave completely ignored the order, kicking off his shoes and straightening up to look the older man in the eye. "You know, Balthazar. Rather than tearing me to pieces the second I walk in the door, _for no reason, _I'd like to add, you could give me ten seconds to at least explain where I was. What I was doing."

"I already know the answer," Balthazar replied. "You were saying goodbye to your girlfriend for an hour and a half. I get it." His voice finally calmed a touch, and he added more quietly, "I'd have done the same thing. You don't have to explain."

Dave shook his head. "No. I think I do. Because I actually didn't spend more than fifteen minutes with Becky. I was there just long enough to say goodbye and apologize for taking off on her. I _actually_ just spent the past hour or so listening to a kid complain about a test grade, so I could talk to a professor who I never had _after_ his office hours about what might be wrong with you when I couldn't even give him any details except 'My friend's getting old. Fast.'. Then, I realized that I not only forgot to ask Bennett to feed Tank, but I forgot to grab my things from the apartment, because I'd been too busy asking _him_ which professor to talk to in the first place. So, I wound up having to walk back to my apartment to grab everything... _That_ is where I've been for the past hour and a half. Do you think maybe you could lay off, now?"

Balthazar just stared at him in silence for a moment as Veronica, realizing that Dave apparently would not be making it down the hall any time soon, went to get him a towel. Finally, the man replied, "Bennett had this guy? I didn't think he took 'hard classes'."

"He doesn't. His ex did... Balthazar, is _that_ all you got from what I said?"

"No. That's just the part that surprised me."

Veronica reappeared, handing the towel to Dave, and motioning for him to take a seat, moving Balthazar's laptop from the sofa to the coffee table to give him room. "Sit down, Dave," she said gently. As the boy moved to comply, drying himself for the second time that day, then dropping onto the sofa's welcoming cushion, Veronica glared at her husband. "Is this really necessary at the moment, Balthazar? Can't he just tell you whatever it is that he has to say, so he can dry off and change his clothes before he catches pneumonia?"

"I can fix pneumonia."

From the glare she shot him, that was obviously not the response Veronica had been going for.

Balthazar sighed, some of the irritation fading as he finally realized that most of his anger was based on stress rather than anything his apprentice had actually done wrong anyway. He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly, and walked over to drop onto the opposite end of the sofa. "Fine," he replied. There was a long silence before he said awkwardly, "I do appreciate it." He paused again before adding, "Especially cutting your time short with Becky."

The expression on Dave's face was priceless. It was obvious that he could tell what a concession it was for his mentor to actually thank him after his tirade. The man hated to be wrong. However, Dave was annoyed as well by this point and grumbled, "You know you _could_ apologize."

Balthazar shot him a sour look. "Don't push it. Now, go on with whatever you know."

"That's right," the youth replied, sarcastically. "Why apologize when you're never wrong?"

His master raised an eyebrow and motioned toward his laptop. "I could go back to Googling for answers, you know..."

Dave stared, finally noticing the computer sitting quietly in front of him. "Since when are _you _computer literate?" His irritation was finally pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by mild surprise.

Balthazar snorted. "Since they came out." At his apprentice's startled expression, he added dryly, "Just because I didn't own one doesn't mean I don't know how to use it. I don't _still _live in the Dark Ages. I keep close tabs on technological advances. Science runs closely alongside magic. You know that."

Dave nodded. "But—"

"That means that scientific advances can lead to magical ones as well. And vice versa. Magic is constantly changing and being honed just like technology. There were very few sorcerers of even the 300th degree in my day. Magic was much wilder and more difficult to control. We've learned a great deal since then. It's easier now." He paused, then added quietly. "It would be, at least, if so many of us hadn't been wiped out in the past thousand years..."

The mention of death brought the problem back to the foreground. "Which," Veronica cut in, "is another reason why we can't let this go on much longer. Dave, you said you spoke to someone. Did you learn anything?"

At those words, the boy's eyes lit up. "Yeah. Telomeres."

"Telomeres?" Veronica appeared puzzled, her dark eyes shifting from Dave's face to Balthazar's and back again. "What are those?"

Dave grinned, "Well, basically they're DNA pieces that don't get reproduced, so—"

"Dave," Balthazar interrupted, leaning forward on the sofa and resting his elbows on his knees. "She's been out of the Grimhold for all of four months. We spent a week going over how electricity works. Becky spent days going over—" He cut himself off there, appearing uncharacteristically flustered for a moment before composing himself. "She's not ready for detailed DNA explanations unless you're planning on spending the next month first explaining how the body works on a cellular level." He shot Veronica a quick look to be sure she wasn't offended, but she just smiled reassuringly. Obviously this was a fact. And she wasn't one to be upset by practical facts, whether or not they were particularly flattering.

Dave looked frustrated. "How am I supposed to explain a DNA problem without talking about DNA?"

Balthazar sighed and turned to face Veronica. "Telomeres work like this: Imagine you have a tree and you slowly begin stripping the bark from it. Eventually, if you remove enough bark, the tree won't be able to feed itself and grow, so instead it begins to die. Telomeres are the human equivalent to that. It's what happens naturally to make us get older. What Dave is proposing is that the part of me that maps out how I function is being stripped of its telomeres more quickly than it should." He paused, motioning to his aging body. "And that results in me growing older more quickly as well."

David just stared at his mentor incredulously. "Seriously Balthazar, do you just sit around coming up with fifteen different ways to explain everything scientific and magical?"

"Do I have much of a choice?"

"_So_," Veronica interrupted, attempting to ward off another argument. "it's possible that this has nothing to do with Merlin at all? Is that what you're saying, David?"

But the boy didn't respond as something suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Balthazar, you already knew about telomeres?"

"I've been researching solutions for longer than you've even known about the problem, Dave. What did you expect?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me you'd already done research?" he finally exploded in a fit of uncharacteristic anger. "Dammit, Balthazar, you never actually tell me _anything_ that's going on! First Morgana and the Prime Merlinian stuff. Then Veronica. Now this. _What_ exactly do you already know, so I can stop wasting my time researching useless information?"

"Stop yelling, Dave. You're going to wake up the neighbors."

"For once be completely honest to me, because we don't _have _time to waste. You aged how many days while I sat there talking to someone who might have been able to help if he'd had any useful information? Stop lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"No, you're just skipping all of the important parts. It's the same thing. And I _know_ you. You only leave out details when you think I'm going to react badly."

"I _know_ you're going to react badly. You _are_ reacting badly."

Dave opened his mouth to speak, but Balthazar cut him off. "Look, you want to know what I know? It isn't a whole hell of a lot. I found out about the telomeres a couple days ago. There's no way I can test myself to see if that's a problem, because although magic can affect us straight to the atomic level, we don't _see_ anything but its effects. So to actually know what magic will do to something, we have to go through trial and error. And I've told you before, if we try something on me and we're wrong, it could get worse."

"_How_? How can you _dying_ get worse? Just make the telomeres stop breaking off. Make the DNA replicate again."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Balthazar snapped. "We can't just 'make things happen.' It doesn't work that way. If my DNA has already been chopped to the point of no return, then I can't just magically grow them back."

"Why _not_? You can magically do everything else."

The sorcerer took a deep breath, forcing himself to cool off. Telling himself that Dave was still very young and very new to all of this. Reminding himself that the only reason they were fighting in the first place was because the kid was concerned and too damn stubborn. One more deep breath, and he tried again, much calmer. "Because if it _is_ the telomeres, then I have nothing to work with. I can't regrow my own DNA. You can't just rebuild a code when you don't know it. And it's when DNA is manipulated that serious problems start. Even if I stopped the aging, I could wind up giving myself cancer and dying anyway. And like it or not, Veronica and I can't heal something like that..."

Dave shook his head, his own voice finally calming down. His expression almost pleading. "Then just let Veronica freeze your age. At least it won't get worse."

"No."

Dave was silent.

"We don't even know for _sure_ it's the telomeres. I don't think this is purely scientific, Dave. And if it isn't, then that opens us up to a lot more options. There are too many variables."

"Yeah, well you won't even let us test anything so we can start narrowing our options down. You're making it almost impossible to even _try _to fix. You could at least cooperate a little."

"Dave..." Veronica interrupted, trying once again to mediate. But Balthazar didn't give her the chance, throwing tact to the wind.

"If I try to heal the telomeres, and there is nothing wrong with them, I'm going to wind up damaging my DNA anyway. And that's probably going to just speed up the process. We'll be lucky if we can 'fix the problem' in a month. Do you think you could manage it in two weeks? How about two days? Because if something screws up, that's what could happen. You don't tamper with time, with aging, with life and death unless you know what you're doing or else _bad things happen_." He growled out those last words.

Stunned silence followed.

Finally, in a quiet, haunted voice, Dave responded to his words. "That's why you're hiding things from me." He looked up at his mentor, all anger gone from his eyes. "I get it now."

"What?"

"I might have done this to you."

Balthazar winced. "Dave, I wasn't..."

But the boy just shook his head. "No. When you died back there... and I used the plasma in the Forbidden Realm to restart your heart... I had no clue what I was doing. I could have done something wrong. I probably did..."

"It isn't your fault, Dave," Veronica said, alarmed. She sent the older sorcerer a pleading look. "Balthazar..."

But the man was already getting to his feet. "We don't know anything for sure right now, but you're jumping to conclusions. Just—"

"No," Dave replied softly, refusing to make eye contact. "Look... I'm just going into my room to unpack my stuff. I'm tired. It's been a long day."

"Dave," Balthazar started again, but the boy just walked past him this time, grabbing his bag and slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder, bending under its weight. As he passed his master, he quietly replied, "I'm sorry," before making his way down the hall to the spare room.

"_Dave_," the older man called after him, moving to follow, but Veronica held him back.

"Let him be. It's been a long day for all of us."

"Where did he get the idea that I blamed _him_? I'd wouldn't have lived _this_ long if he hadn't stepped in." His eyes were concerned, focused on the door that his apprentice had just left through.

"Just let him rest. You're right. He can't blame himself. But right now, he's obviously not in any state to listen." Her expression was serious. "Later."

* * *

In his room, Dave sat in the dark on his unmade bed, his face in his hands. "If it _is_ my fault, Balthazar," he whispered, "I'm going to make it up to you... whatever it takes..."

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry for the big delay for this update. Real life got in the way and between two jobs, being in a play and being sick, I wound up slacking in quite a few arenas. Hopefully that problem will be solved soon! Anyway, thank you so much for your patience. Thanks to Kaytori and lolo popoki for their beta work. And thanks to all of you for reading (and hopefully reviewing!)_

_And a general thanks to Kaytori for writing her plot bunny collection. That's where I was introduced to the idea of what Becky spent days explaining to Veronica...  
_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 6:**

Dave was already awake and eating breakfast by the time Balthazar came into the kitchen the following morning.

He stopped in the doorway, staring at Dave in surprise for a moment before slowly entering the room. "Since when do _you_ voluntarily wake up this early?" he asked, walking to the counter and grabbing a couple of slices of bread.

"Good morning to you, too," his apprentice responded before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He made a face. "Balthazar, this stuff is horrible. How do you eat it?"

The older man dropped the bread into the toaster and pushed down the lever. "I don't. That's that granola stuff Veronica likes. Feel free to buy something different." He flashed a grin at the boy. "And plan on sharing."

Dave swallowed hard. "Do you prefer marshmallows or little cookies?"

"I'll eat just about anything that doesn't look like the mash I used to feed my horse."

His apprentice snorted. "Lucky Charms it is, then."

Balthazar didn't answer, instead pulling out butter and a knife and setting them beside him. He then grabbed a glass off one of the shelves and began pouring himself some of the milk that Dave had left out on the counter. "You know, Dave, milk _does_ spoil. That's why we have a refrigerator. So we don't die of the diseases that my people _used _to die from."

His somewhat amused grumble was met with an awkward silence.

_Oh for God's sake. This isn't going to happen every time I use the word "die", is it?_ The toast popped up just then, and he turned his back to the boy, annoyed. He yanked the slices out of the toaster and dropped them onto a plate, adding a generous amount of butter.

"Balthazar, do you really think that's a good idea?"

His master froze in the middle of the action, turning to send Dave a blank look.

Dave looked concerned. So intent, in fact, that he didn't seem to even appreciate the rarity of that expression on his master's face.

Balthazar shook his head, eyebrows raised. "Do I think _what_ is a good idea?"

"The butter."

Balthazar stared down at his toast. "I honestly don't even think the toast is all that appetizing an idea. But it'll work until you buy the cereal. At least the butter makes it taste less like cardboard."

Dave scowled, clearly irritated. "I didn't mean the taste. I meant the butter itself. It's bad for you." He paused, floundering. "Like... older people shouldn't eat much butter." He began motioning with his hands as though that would somehow help him to express his thoughts better.

Balthazar just set the butter knife down, crossing his arms, his face set into an expression of annoyance.

Dave was oblivious. "I'm just saying that too much of that stuff can be bad for a man your age." He winced at his own words, and, finally seeming to notice the sour look on his master's face, dug back into his breakfast with renewed fervor.

"Dave," his master said slowly, his voice smooth, his words carefully metered out. A sure sign that he was making a concentrated effort to control his natural reaction to the boy's words. "I'm getting older. I'm not falling apart. I can still knock you flat, butter or not. And if you keep up like this, I'm willing to risk proving that to you right now in this apartment, whether the landlords like it or not." His expression was dark. "Anyway, we both know that _butter_ is the least of my problems at the moment."

Dave was silent, poking at his cereal, no longer making eye contact.

Balthazar sighed deeply. "Okay, you're upset. Out with it. What's wrong now?"

"Nothing." The boy's voice was sullen.

"Right. And I'm a hobgoblin. Something's bothering you, and it isn't just about death by butter. What is it?"

"I said it's nothing. I'm fine."

Balthazar leaned back against the edge of the counter, arms still crossed. "Don't give me that, Dave. You're a terrible—"

"Liar. I know." Dave snapped, scowling into his food, and poking at it some more. He took a breath and, in a calmer voice, added, "Just lay off."

His master shook his head. "The hell I will. I'm not in the mood to watch you mope all day. And it isn't _nothing_. I know you, and you're never this quiet unless you're upset." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually, you usually get even more vocal in that case..."

"Can I just eat?"

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, eying the mush that Dave's cereal had become. "Is _that_ what you're doing? I thought maybe you were punishing the cereal for its existence."

This time he received nothing more than a silent glare from Dave as the boy pushed his bowl away and stood abruptly. "I give up. Maybe you can find a horse to feed it to." With that, he stalked off.

He'd just about reached the hallway when Balthazar said in an oddly quiet voice, "You're going to have to deal with it eventually."

Dave spun on him, his tenuous control finally snapping. "Deal with which part?" he growled, his expression hard. "The part where I get to watch you get older and weaker? The part where you might _die_?" He took a step forward, the obvious pain in his eyes overshadowing the anger and frustration in his voice. "How about the part where _I_ might be the one who caused it in the first place?" His hands were balled into tight fists. The words hissed out through clenched teeth.

_Fight or flight_, Balthazar observed. Typical response for his apprentice. A touch of pride, however, sparked at the fact that more and more often, Dave was choosing "fight". Especially when things mattered to him. Still... now was hardly the time for either.

"We don't know that, Dave," Balthazar replied calmly. "You're jumping to conclusions."

"And if I'm right? Then what?"

Balthazar took a deep breath, fighting off his irritation that his apprentice wasn't listening to him. Again. "If you're right, then you're right. So what?"

Dave's expression was incredulous. "_So what_? _So what_ if my actions are _killing_ you?"

"Yes, Dave," the older man replied, struggling to keep his voice level. "So what? What difference does it make who _caused_ it? It's happening. You're focusing on the past. That won't get you anywhere." He took a deep, calming breath. "Trust me on that. I know."

"But Balthazar—"

"Look," the sorcerer snapped, annoyance finally creeping into his voice. "Think about it. If you _hadn't _taken action, whether it caused this or not, I'd have been dead four months ago. I'm still alive because of you. And even if I do die now—even if it _is_ a result of your actions—those are four more months I was allowed to spend with Veronica and to train you. I didn't even expect that much when I went to face Morgana alone. So, get over it. No one's blaming you for this except yourself."

"I guess," the boy muttered. "I just wish I'd have thought first. I wish I'd have known what I was doing. If I'd have been more careful, then you'd have had time to train me better."

"In _what_? I couldn't have trained you in how to properly use the Forbidden Realm, Dave. I don't _know_ how to use it. _You_ are the only one other than Merlin who ever figured out how to control it without help. If _I'd_ have been the one having to save _you_, then you'd be dead."

Dave continued, undeterred. "If I didn't give up the ring to Horvath, then I'd have been able to help you fight them sooner. You might not have even died at all."

"And Becky _would_ have."

"Again, if you'd have had a chance to train me better, I wouldn't have even needed the ring. It wouldn't have—"

"And," Balthazar interrupted, finally fed up, "if I'd have realized that it was a bad idea to leave an untrained ten-year-old alone with a magic ring, then Horvath would never have been freed in the first place and we'd have had all the time in the world. We can go around in circles like this all day, Dave. Or you can sit back down and finish your breakfast, get some practicing in, and then do whatever it is you plan on doing to help."

Dave opened his mouth as though he intended to argue again. Then, apparently realizing it was a futile gesture, shut it, nodding hesitantly instead. "I'm done eating," he responded. At his master's exasperated look, he added quickly, "Really. I am. I'm not hungry. I'll clean up after I practice, okay?"

Balthazar snorted. "Right. You forget that I've seen how you clean. I don't need a flood. I'll toss the bowl in the dishwasher. Just go." He picked up the jug of milk, and moved to put it into the refrigerator when a sharp pain shot up his back through his shoulder. It came so suddenly that he almost dropped the jug. As it was, he set it down with a heavy _thud_, then leaned against the counter a moment to get his bearings again.

"Balthazar?" There was a note of panic in Dave's voice as he hurried over to his master.

The older sorcerer held his hand up, stopping Dave in his tracks. "I'm fine," he growled. "Stiff muscle. Must have slept wrong. That's all." He straightened up and shot a stern look back at his apprentice. "Go practice."

Dave hesitated, clearly worried. "Are you sure you're—"

"Go."

His master's flat tone left no room for argument, and Dave finally walked out of the room, obviously not satisfied with that answer, but also not wanting to push his master too far.

As soon as the boy was out of sight, Balthazar slowly walked to the table and eased himself into a chair, wincing again at what was already fading to a dull ache.

_Arthritis?_ He hadn't expected _that_ already, but, he realized, he should have. He'd woken up around sixty years old, give or take. And with the number of times he'd been injured—broken bones, slipped disks, dislocated joints, none of which had probably ever been given enough time or care to properly heal—Balthazar was a prime candidate for early onset of arthritis.

_Great_, he thought sourly. As if his other, milder aches and pains hadn't been hard enough to cover up, now he had to try to work around _this_?

Although he had to admit that there were worse things he could be struggling with right now. Things that probably _would_ require him to adjust his lifestyle soon enough. The best he could do at the moment was keep himself in shape for as long as possible to ward off as many ailments as he could. Even though he knew that he'd only be able to manage that for a few days at best, he had to try. For his own sake, and for that of Dave and Veronica. Their worry was only going to make this harder...

As if on cue, his wife entered the kitchen, rubbing tired eyes. She'd spent half the night scouring her Incantus for some clue about what was happening to him. An action she'd been repeating for the past several nights.

"Wearing yourself out isn't going to help anything, Veronica," Balthazar commented, mildly. Grateful that the sudden burst of pain had already faded to a manageable level.

Her eyes shot up to meet his and she managed a faint smile. "I'm not that tired," she replied lightly. Her expression grew serious. "How are you?"

"Fine." His answer was immediate. Almost _too_ quick.

She watched him for a long, silent moment. "I see," she said finally.

He sighed. Like he'd ever _really_ be able to lie to her. "Nothing out of the ordinary for a man my age," he amended, keeping his voice down so that Dave didn't hear at least. Veronica already knew about some of the milder age-related aches and pains he'd been dealing with. He couldn't hide it all the time. Certainly not at night while he slept, when his guard was down. Dave, on the other hand... Balthazar intended to keep those details from his apprentice for as long as possible. "I must be at least sixty by now," he continued. "Maybe a little more." he shrugged. "I feel sixty. That's all. Nothing major. Stiff. Sore. The usual. Like I said... I'm fine."

Her eyes were still worried, but his small admission seemed to have put her mind at least somewhat at ease. "You're sure then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever been able to lie to you, Veronica?"

At that she laughed and began walking toward him again, the tension broken. "That's true," she replied. She stopped behind him, draping her arms over his shoulders in a loose hug. Resting her chin on the top of his head. Taking one of his hands in hers. Holding it tightly.

He ignored the small twinge it caused, focusing on her proximity instead.

He had to admit that if things weren't fixed soon, this wasn't such a bad way to go. Growing old in the presence of the person he loved. He'd never thought he'd get that chance. At least he could die knowing that Veronica would be okay. And at least he wouldn't have to outlive Dave. He paused at that thought. He'd never intended to get close to anyone again. Especially not the Prime Merlinian. The boy he'd have to train. Attachments could be dangerous. They could destroy a sorcerer's focus. Love... Friendship... While both were vital to a sorcerer, they could cause problems as well. Especially when close attachments were made between master and apprentice. Respect was one thing. But Balthazar had to admit that even in this short time, he and Dave had formed a solid friendship. One that could prove dangerous if Dave allowed his focus to remain on his master rather than on his practice and the world around him. It was one of the many reasons that Balthazar was so hard on the boy. He had to force some distance, and the easiest way was to be sure that Dave didn't wind up liking him _too_ much...

Still... he had to admit that it was nice to have friends again. To know that when he _did_ die, there would be someone out there who cared... and who wasn't celebrating his death.

Veronica kissed him lightly, pulling him from his thoughts.

He smiled as she kissed him again and, relinquishing himself to the moment, he brought her hand to his lips, gently returning the favor.

She leaned in, chastity forgotten as her lips met his.

Any remnants of worry fled his mind. _Might as well take advantage of whatever time we have left_, he thought, turning toward her and drawing her into his arms.

* * *

Dave had only intended to practice a little levitation for maybe half an hour. Just enough to keep his promise to Balthazar that he would, indeed, practice. He'd wound up feeling guilty and had upped that to an hour of both levitation and elemental manipulation. Then to an hour and a half because an hour really didn't feel worthwhile. Then, finally, he stretched it to two hours, when he had to admit to himself that it didn't feel right to be lazy about something so important.

Balthazar would be proud.

Dave decided not to tell him. He hated his master's "I told you so" face. He'd just let Balthazar think he'd wasted most of the time goofing around as he was certain the man would just assume anyway.

Dave dropped to his chair, tired and hot after an additional twenty minutes of blasting plasma bolts at the wall. He grabbed an old, warm, half-full bottle of water that he found on the table and took a small swig, grateful to have something to drink.

He shut his eyes and leaned his head back, frustrated that even after all that work, he still felt like the practice had been lacking something. And he was even more irritated that he knew exactly what was wrong. It had been too easy. No Balthazar to push him too far and ridicule him and attack him and in general make his life a living hell for hours on end. To force him to be creative in order to keep from being injured, even though by now Dave had figured out that his master would never actually allow his apprentice to be hurt _too _badly. He knew that the incredible skill that his master showed during training was only a weak, watered-down version of what he was truly capable of.

If he ever really wanted to hurt his apprentice, then Dave wouldn't be walking afterward.

Dave sighed, hauling himself out of the chair. But none of it today. No Balthazar to make him feel like an unskilled idiot when he wasn't paying attention. But also to make him feel incredibly powerful and important in those rare—very rare—instances that Dave did something well enough to win his master's praise.

Funny. Dave had always thought it would be nice to practice alone.

He realized suddenly—uncomfortably—that he hated it.

There was no challenge and not enough motivation. As it was, he mostly had pushed himself today to satisfy what he knew his master's expectations of him would have been had the man been there himself. Because Dave refused to let his master down, even if Balthazar would never know.

_We have to save him._

Dave scooped up the water bottle, dumping its remains onto the magically grown plant he'd been practicing on for the past week. It was old and dying now. Dave was struggling to keep it alive, having made an irrational connection between its life and his master's. This was the plant that Balthazar had sent him to practice on almost two weeks ago when all of this had started. His master hadn't even been able to see his success yet. Dave was determined to keep the plant alive—and hidden—having decided to only show it to him when the older man had recovered. When Balthazar was himself again.

Dave winced at that thought as he made his way to the shower. It hadn't even been a day and his master was already at least a year or two older than he'd been when Dave had first arrived at the apartment. He didn't look too different. A little greyer. That was all. But that wasn't what bothered him.

He quickly stripped and tossed his clothes onto the nearby counter, grabbing a bar of soap from the locker where he kept it, and stepped into the shower.

_Stiff muscle_... Dave snorted. _Right._

He turned the water on, feeling a shock of cold before it slowly—very slowly—warmed.

_Balthazar doesn't get stiff muscles just from sleeping. He's in too good of shape for that._

True, he was older now. The occasional stiff muscle might not be _such_ a stretch anymore. Dave thought back to how slowly his master had moved picking up the towel that Dave had dropped the day before. Still... this morning it had been pain, not stiffness. It had been bad enough that it had registered on Balthazar's face for a moment. Enough to surprise him.

And nothing surprised Balthazar.

Dave finished lathering and let the water, which had finally grown warm enough to be tolerable just as the shower was ending, wash over him, rinsing the soap and exhaustion away.

His worries, however, remained as he finally turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he began drying off.

_Arthritis, probably._ His grandfather had had arthritis pretty bad in his knees, and that had been the face he'd always made when he'd stepped wrong.

Dave paled, realizing that Balthazar was now probably only about ten years younger than his grandfather had been when he'd died of a heart attack a couple of years back.

What if it wasn't arthritis? It could be his heart. And even if it wasn't... Ten years for Balthazar right now was only a few days... He'd been so worried about his master dying of old age that it hadn't even occurred to him to worry about his actual health. What if he were predisposed to heart problems? Or stroke? What if he only _had _a few days before his health began to deteriorate? Or worse?

He quickly tossed his towel to the floor, his skin and hair still mostly wet, and began throwing clothes back on. It was summer. He'd dry as soon as he stopped outside anyway. Right now he had more important things to worry about. And he certainly didn't have time to waste grooming himself.

Dave slammed the locker door shut and hurried from the shower room into the lab, pausing only to scoop his cell phone off of the table before bolting to the lab door, taking the stairs two at a time in his long stride.

Three days off from training. Three days until Balthazar would hit mid- to late- sixties by his and Veronica's reckoning... Would Balthazar even be _able _to train him by then?

Dave shut the door to the lab behind him, his face set into a grim expression.

He didn't intend to wait around and find out...

* * *

_Author's Note: A big thanks to kaytori and lolo popoki for their beta work. And thank you so much for reading. Please review! I feed on reviews for motivation._

_Have a great day and happy holidays!_

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**Autumn Within**

**Chapter 7:**

Dave wove through the streets that led from the lab to his apartment. He figured he'd grab another bag of things that he probably wouldn't even use to stave off a return episode of Balthazar's pissy mood last night. Anyway, he needed time to think.

_Okay. Scientific method. Step one, ask the question: What's causing this? How do we stop it? _He hesitated, reluctantly adding, _And how much time do we _really_ have?_ He thought back to his master's obvious pain from earlier, and remembered how much greyer his hair had been this morning. It wasn't a huge difference—the grey at his temples had really just begun threading more thickly back through the rest of his hair—but how quickly would he naturally be going grey? If Balthazar and Veronica were right and he was only aging a year or two per day, then his master would have only aged a few months while he'd been sleeping. Would he really have changed that much overnight? Had they miscalculated?

Dave took a deep breath. _Or maybe it's speeding up_. Dave pushed that thought as far from his mind as he could. Balthazar was probably just one of those people who went grey all at once. And the stress of the situation certainly wasn't helping. Heck, once this was fixed, this would likely be enough turn him grey for real, even at thirty-five. It wasn't unheard of.

Still... it wouldn't hurt to mention his worries to Veronica. And he made a mental note to start watching the changes in his master as carefully—and unobtrusively—as possible.

He forced his thoughts back to the situation at hand. _Okay... asked the questions. Step two: Do background research. _Dave had already discussed possibilities with Alanson. And after Balthazar and Veronica had gone to bed last night, he'd slipped out of his room and had searched the internet on Balthazar's laptop, making it a point to study every website saved in his master's search history to see exactly what the man had found so far. He hated having to sneak around like that, but it wasn't like he could just ask and expect a straight answer. And there was no time to sit around and try to guess what little details were going to be "forgotten" during their conversations. A person could drive himself crazy trying to think like Balthazar...

_If you wouldn't be so stubborn, I wouldn't have to be so creative,_ he thought irritably.

It hadn't mattered anyway. Most of what Balthazar had found were sites describing the information Dr. Alanson had provided: Various forms of progeria, DNA disorders, a few weird sites about Eastern medicine as well as ancient tribal traditions from all over the place... Several others that Dave hadn't even bothered making note of, since they were scans of books written in some language that looked German, but wouldn't cooperate with the online translators. Dave wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what those ones were about anyway. The few pictures in them weren't particularly pleasant, and Dave had a funny feeling that a couple of them weren't particularly Merlinian either.

So, scientific explanations were eluding them all. And, though Veronica had been scouring her Incantus for a magical solution, apparently she was failing to find answers there as well.

Dave's brow furrowed as he walked, deep in thought, nearly oblivious to the world around him, hands in pockets, eyes fixed firmly down at the sidewalk. _Magic and science overlap, though. They aren't two separate things... Maybe Veronica and I can try to tie our research together...?_

Possible, but not likely. Veronica was still centuries behind in her scientific understanding. Dave thought back with a shudder to her suggestion of leeching him last month when he'd wound up staying over at their apartment with a wicked cold and high fever for a few days, and how Balthazar'd had to explain how antibiotics worked, and why his apprentice would prefer them, even if they wound up being a suppository. Dave had weakly voiced his irritation at the entire conversation when Balthazar had later entered his room, depositing the antibiotics (which were, to Dave's relief, _not_ suppositories) and a glass of water on the nightstand beside him.

Balthazar had easily shut him up by implying he be grateful that she hadn't suggested blood-letting. Dave had dropped it at that, and hadn't tried to have a scientific discussion with her since then until the telomeres, not really wanting to know what other medical wonders she knew about.

Finally having arrived at his apartment building, he yanked the door open—its broken lock still unfixed from a run-in with angry wolves and a terrifying Morganian several months ago—and stepped inside the dark entranceway, walking immediately to the stairs and taking them two at a time.

So Veronica wasn't really an option. _Maybe I should just try going through the Incantus myself..._ But Dave had no idea what he would do even if he _found_ anything worthwhile. Or if he'd even recognize it as valid if he did. The book was old. It would probably suggest leeches, too. Even if it _did _update itself to keep with the times, Dave had never thought to ask if it stored all of the old information as well. It would be hell to sort through if it did.

Balthazar was really the only one of them skilled enough in both magic and modern science to be able to separate the crap from viable options. The youth sighed. Assuming the man didn't "forget to mention" the ones he didn't like. And from what Dave had observed so far, Balthazar had no intention of looking for magical solutions. It felt like he'd just given up when he'd decided Merlin had messed up. As though if Merlin had failed, none of them had a chance. It was driving Dave crazy. Since when did Balthazar give up on anything? He'd hunted down the Prime Merlinian for over a thousand years. Protected and waited to save the girl he loved for as long. Fought a best friend who had betrayed them to do what was right. Trained an unskilled and unwilling apprentice... All because he'd decided he would. Because it was what needed to be done. Now, for some inexplicable reason, he was laying down his sword and letting the end come?

Dave's fists clenched. Well, it wasn't coming. Not yet. Not if _he _could help it...

He made it to his floor, walked the short distance down the hall to his door, and opened it, stepping inside. It was blessedly empty. Dave had never been so grateful that Bennet was out. It had been hard enough coming up with a plausible explanation for both needing Alanson's name as well as staying over with Balthazar and Veronica again. He certainly didn't want to have to give a report on how his meeting with the professor had gone. Bennet had clearly not believed that this had to do with the grad project that Dave's "uncle" was now helping with. Especially not since that had been the exact same explanation he'd used for needing help strapping a Tesla device to the hood of Balthazar's Phantom a few months back...

Dave shook his head. He really _did_ need to learn how to lie better if he was going to keep trying to hide his magic. Especially from people who knew him as well as his roommate. If it weren't for the fact that in Bennet's book, hanging out with Balthazar was apparently grey wolf stuff (especially since Bennet had determined that Dave had the coolest uncle ever, much to Dave's chagrin), he doubted his friend would be giving him _this_ much leeway. Personal space had never been one of Bennet's strong points.

Dave clicked the door shut behind him, walking through their tiny kitchen to their possibly smaller living room. He scooped up a backpack that had been wedged between their ratty, old armchair and their even less impressive-looking wall, and began tossing things at random into the bag, packing things more to placate Balthazar than anything else. He honestly wasn't even sure how much of the stuff in there was his and how much was Bennet's.

He picked up a pair of glasses, about to absently throw them in, too, when it suddenly clicked what he was holding. _X-ray specs?_ He stared at the ridiculous looking object in his hand. _Really, Bennet? You own x-ray specs?_ Probably left behind by one of Bennet's old girlfriends, Dave realized. Most likely the comic book obsessive. Dave supposed he should just be grateful that he hadn't come upon a ray gun and some genetically mutated radioactive alien spawn or some other creepy crawly. That girl had been beyond weird, which was saying something, given that this assessment was coming from someone who was pretending that a 1,500-year-old sorcerer was his uncle so he could learn to shoot plasma bolts from his hands.

He studied the glasses for another moment before shrugging and tossing them in anyway. _Why not?_ He began zipping up the bag. Midway, he froze as a sudden thought struck him_. Radiation. Dammit._ With all of the arguing and guilt of the previous night, he'd completely forgotten Dr. Alanson's recommendation to ask Balthazar about possible radiation damage. What good was asking the questions if he didn't follow through with collecting the data?

He quickly finished closing the bag and slung it over his shoulder, almost knocking himself down with the sudden shift in weight. Taking a moment to steady himself, he scooped his phone off of the table and dialed his master's number.

After three rings, the older man picked up, answering with a gruff, "What?"

Dave froze, silenced by the surprising realization that the man's voice had a noticeably rougher quality to it than it once had. How had he not noticed this morning? Then again, he'd been focusing on other things at the time...

"Dave?" Balthazar tried again.

The boy blinked a couple times, snapping himself out of it. "Yeah," he responded, trying to smooth over his awkward pause. "Bad connection for a second there."

Apparently Balthazar decided to refrain from reminding his apprentice about the futility of lying. He simply replied, "You're supposed to be practicing. What do you want?"

Dave rolled his eyes, comforted at least by the fact that the man's demeanor didn't seem to be changing over time. He dropped into the chair behind him, allowing the heavy bag to hit the floor again. "I had to ask you something." He paused, adding in a somewhat testy voice, "And for your information, I already finished practicing."

He could hear his master snort somewhat derisively on the other end of the line. "Did you practice levitation?"

"Yes. Now—"

"And your elemental work?"

Dave gritted his teeth. "Yes. And my plasma bolts, too. _Now_ will you let me—"

"And the plant manipulation?"

Dave fell silent.

After a long pause, Balthazar commented a touch dryly, "I take it that's a 'no.'"

"I don't particularly feel like speeding up a plant's age right now, Balthazar," the boy said in a tight voice, swallowing hard.

There was another long pause before his master responded simply, "Fair enough," surprising his apprentice by dropping the subject without a fight. "Just double up on the elemental work, then."

Dave nodded even though he knew his master couldn't see him, grateful for his small concession. "Sure."

"Now, why did you call?"

"I had a question."

"I gathered that much."

"Balthazar," Dave snapped, "have you always been this obnoxious over the phone? Or do you just do this to me to make up for not being able to blast me into things when I'm not right there next to you?"

"No." There was a thoughtful pause. "Though that's not a half bad idea." Dave could imagine the man grinning on the other end. "Anyway, continue. You had a question?"

"Yeah," Dave responded, still bristling, but reminding himself that he had more important things to deal with than being his master's figurative punching bag. "I was just wondering if you were exposed to any sort of radiation."

"What?"

"Radiation. Were you exposed to any? It's a simple yes or no question, Balthazar."

"Yes. Lots."

Dave leaned forward. "Lots?"

"It's called the sun. Perhaps you've heard of it."

The boy flopped back into his seat, covering his face with his hand. Grateful that he was several blocks away, so he couldn't throw a fit in front of the insufferable man he was attempting to talk with now. "Not funny," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'm serious."

"I don't know."

"Balthazar..."

"I mean it. I don't know. If I was, then it was back when we didn't even know what radiation was yet."

"You're sure you can't remember? Anything? At all?"

"Dave," his master began, "I'm over a thousand years old. The human memory may be essentially infinite, but after that much time and that many memories, they all start to blur together. If it isn't significant, I don't waste my time trying to keep tabs on it. So, no... I don't remember if I spent any time around anything that might be radioactive."

"Dammit. I was hoping you could give me _something_ to work with here."

"Sorry to be so useless to you," Balthazar responded dryly. "I'll work on that."

Dave sighed. "Okay, well then I guess we can't rule out genetic mutation."

There was a long pause before Balthazar responded, a hint of amusement coloring his voice now, "I'm not an X-Man, Dave."

"Again. Not funny."

"Well, what did you expect me to say? That I remember playing in some suspicious glowing green rock garden when I was a kid?"

"Haha," Dave replied sourly. "I'm just looking for answers here. Remember? Trying to help? Think you could cooperate rather than constantly bombarding me with sarcasm? Do you think this is _easy_ for me?"

"It isn't easy for any of us, Dave. But just _wanting _me to have the right answer isn't going to make it happen. We can will a lot of things into existence. But you can't always just _force_ things to be the way you want them to be."

"Why not?" Dave snapped, fully aware of the whining quality that was threatening to overtake his voice. "We can will everything else into existence. Hell, you fly around on a steel eagle!"

"You know why." The older man's voice had taken on a sharp tone, reminding Dave abruptly just who was under the most stress here. Balthazar somehow had a way of playing it so cool that it was easy to forget that it was actually _him _who was on the the executioner's block. "We don't play god, Dave. Merlinians have limits. There are lines we don't cross. People like Morgana rise from tampering with things meant to be left alone. Armies are raised from the dead. People are needlessly murdered. Civilizations crumble. Why do you need to keep _asking_?"

"Because," Dave finally blew up, "the only person I know who's consistently chosen to stand against all of that, even when it's against his better interests, is dying." His voice dropped. "I've had to watch you die once before. You think I really want to risk having to watch it happen again?"

There was such a long pause after that comment that Dave was almost afraid that Balthazar had hung up on him.

"Balthazar?"

"I'm here." All emotion was gone from his voice now, leaving him sounding tired and faded. And older still.

Dave mentally kicked himself. _It's bad enough that he's aging so fast... Why do I have to keep making it worse by pitching a fit every time he acts like himself? _What did he expect? Balthazar was being Balthazar. What was the man supposed to do? Suddenly become openly caring and supportive? Helpful? Dave knew that his master was deep—very deep— down all of those things, but he also knew that hell would freeze over before he actually admitted to it.

"Sorry," Dave muttered. "I pushed that too far."

"No," his master replied, surprising him. "You didn't." He didn't go any further, but it was as though there were an unspoken understanding between them now. Maybe.

Dave hesitated, knowing that he could probably push Balthazar a little further. He sighed. But he wouldn't. There were limits before things became awkward. _ And even though he's my friend,_ Dave reminded himself, _he's my master, too. There's a line, and I probably just crossed it, whether or not he wants to acknowledge it... God forbid he admit he's uncomfortable about a topic..._

"Did you have any other questions, or am I allowed to hang up now?" Balthazar's voice was testy, and something still sounded a little off. But the awkward moment appeared to be quickly passing.

"No. That's it," Dave responded, relieved that at very least the tension had eased a bit.

"Good. And just so you know, we could have discussed this when you got back. There's something we need to talk over anyway. Where are you?"

"Apartment," Dave said, already getting to his feet and grabbing his bag again. "Grabbing more things."

"You'd better not have just thrown any old garbage into a bag."

Dave made a face. _And he's back to normal. _"Of course I didn't. Why would I do something stupid like that?"

Silence. Then, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Probably not."

"I'll give you twenty minutes to dump some of the crap out so you can fill it with functional things. Like your phone charger, for instance. And maybe your laptop, so you can stay off of mine. You still taking that glucose stuff?"

"Seems kind of pointless, don't you think? If I'm hallucinating from a glucose imbalance, I'm pretty sure that I'm too far gone by now for anything short of anti-psychotics to help me."

"Good. Then, no meds to remember. We can always pick you up some anti-psychotics if you need them. Wouldn't want you believing that you can do crazy things like magic now would we?"

"And more humor. Nice."

"So, your charger for sure, and laptop—"

"You said that already."

"—More clothes probably, since your other bag seems to contain mostly books—"

"You own a washing machine. I'm assuming you're gong to let me use it sometime in the next few weeks."

"—extra cash, try to find your transit pass—"

"Did you go through my stuff while I was gone?"

"—and your _ring,_" Balthazar added, continuing to ignore his apprentice's smartass comments. "If that thing isn't in your possession when you get here, you're grounded."

"Sure thing, Dad," Dave muttered sarcastically.

"Twenty minutes," his master said sharply, his voice no-nonsense. And before Dave could respond, he hung up.

"I hate it when he does that," Dave grumbled, tossing his bag back onto the chair and unzipping it. Dumping out some of its contents.

He kept the x-ray specs in just out of spite.

* * *

_Author's Note: For starters, I'm really sorry for taking so long to update this (and _Against All Odds_, which will be updated soon-I'm already over halfway done writing the next chapter). November was dedicated to a novel I'm working on (National Novel Writing Month), December was dedicated to Christmas and vacations, and January was dedicated to my getting my students final exams done and getting their grades in and getting over being sick! **Finally** I have time to pretend that I have a life again, so here I am. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. More to come soon, I hope!_

_Another note about Bennet. Apparently there is a discrepancy about how to spell his name. I have the novelization that spells it "Bennett", but Kaytori pointed out that the movie credits spell it "Bennet". I'm going with the movie version, since it's the primary source. I'll be going back and fixing the old chapters, but I just wanted to let you guys know what's up with the spelling inconsistency._

_Finally, a great big thanks to my betas for this chapter: lolo popoki, Kaytori, and FrostPhoenix. And, as always, thanks to you for reading. Please review! That's what motivates me!_

_God þē mid sīe! (Old English for goodbye... well, technically "God be with you", which would be how they said goodbye. Seemed appropriate since that would likely be Balthazar's native tongue... Yes, I really am so lame that I looked that up and cross referenced it. I'm also weird enough that I actually own an Old English grammar/ reader/ dictionary... *sweatdrops*)_

_Sirius  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Dave whipped open the apartment door without even bothering to knock. The delicious smell of cooking struck him as soon as he entered. Apparently Veronica was using her new toy, the slow cooker, to make dinner. Dave smiled, ever amused at her excitement over every new electronic item she was shown. And he was grateful that she picked up on how to use things so quickly. Catching her up on the modern world could have been far more frustrating otherwise.

He shut the door behind him with one hand, trying to juggle his keys and his bag with the other.

Balthazar sat quietly on the sofa, reading glasses on, flipping through a magazine. There were more magazines next to him on the sofa as well as a fair sized stack on the coffee table in front of him as well. Dave shot him a quick look and then dumped his bag on the floor and bent to untie his shoes.

His master raised an eyebrow, glancing up. "Since when don't you knock?"

Dave looked up, startled. "My hands were kind of full, Balthazar." He stared at the man for a second. "Since when do I have to?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his master's lips. "You don't." He looked back down at the magazine. "Just might not be a bad idea. What if you walked in on Veronica and I when we're—?"

Dave shut his eyes tightly. "Balthazar!" he exclaimed, trying to hide the horror in his voice. "Geez. I don't need the mental image of you two making out." He stared back down at his shoes.

Balthazar smile grew. "I was going to say kissing, since that seems to make you uncomfortable enough, but I suppose making out works, too."

"Balthazar," Dave responded through gritted teeth, his voice annoyed.

The older man only chuckled, flipping a page. "Lighten up, Dave. I was kidding."

The youth sighed, shaking his head and fighting a knot in one of the shoelaces.

"Anyway, we wait until you're asleep for that stuff. Date night and all..."

Dave glared poison at the older man. Balthazar wasn't even looking at him, but his apprentice could see the laughter in his eyes. Dave hated to admit it but as annoying as the man was being, it was nice to see him teasing as though nothing were wrong. Especially after how awkward their phone conversation had gotten. "I'd hurt you right now, Balthazar, if it wouldn't set off the smoke detector."

"You'd _try._"

"Embarrassment and torment motivate me."

His master glanced back up at him, a wicked grin spreading across his face this time. "You really shouldn't have told me that."

Dave paled at those words, closing his eyes and mentally kicking himself.

Veronica entered the room from the kitchen just then, saving Dave from wedging his foot into his mouth any further. "Dave! You're back already," she said smiling. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes, though. "How did practice go?"

"Fine. Boring." The knot finally gave way, and Dave stood and kicked off his shoes, noticing the strange look on her face. He glanced between the couple warily. "What's wrong?"

Balthazar's eyes were trained on the magazine in his hands. "Nothing. Come. Sit."

Dave did as he was told. "I'm sitting. What's wrong?" He turned his eyes to Veronica, who seemed the most likely to respond at the moment.

She walked over to the sofa and shoved the magazines aside, dropping down quietly beside her husband on the sofa.

"Nothing, Dave," Balthazar answered for her, his voice sounding a little off. "We just have something we need to discuss." His master finally slapped the magazine shut and tossed it on the table.

_Medical journal_, Dave noted. So, even though Balthazar insisted this was Merlin's mistake, he was still hunting for a scientific explanation. Odd. It relieved Dave a little, though. It meant that maybe Balthazar wasn't giving up quite as easily as it had sounded earlier.

"Nothing?" Dave asked suspiciously. "Then what's Veronica upset about?"

She dropped the smile, her eyes darting to her husband. "I'm upset because he and I have already 'discussed' this."

Balthazar shut his eyes a moment and sighed deeply, apparently having no response to her comment.

"So, what are we discussing?"

Balthazar opened his eyes again, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. "We aren't getting anywhere with research," he replied simply. "Veronica has scoured the Incantus. You've checked with that pathologist of yours. I can't find anything useful online."

Dave nodded cautiously. "Okay..."

"We're out of options that _we _are capable of researching. I've been thinking about it for the past couple of days, and I think I may have come up with something. Just an idea. Nothing major, but it could possibly help." Balthazar's casual response was contradicted by the way his expression hardened as though he were bracing himself for some negative response.

It only made Dave worry more. What was wrong _now_? Was it possible that things could have gotten worse? That this _idea_ of his was some sort of last ditch attempt? "What _is_ it, Balthazar?" the boy asked tightly through clenched teeth. His grip tightened on the arms of the chair.

"I just think we need outside opinions," his master responded, shrugging. "Ideas from people who make it their business to know about abnormalities like this."

Dave just stared at him, his surprise overpowering his worry for the moment. "There are people who would know about this?"

Balthazar ignored the question. "I know a few people who owe me favors. And who understand a little about what I am. They know more about this stuff than we do. And they'll be discrete."

Dave nodded, surprised and pleased that his master was finally taking action. It was good news.

So why did Veronica look so upset?

He narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?"

"Who said there was a catch?"

Dave leveled a serious look at his friend. "What's the catch, Balthazar?"

"Relax. I just have to go away for a couple of days. They're out of state. And I guarantee this will need to be face-to-face."

"What?" Dave asked, stunned. "No. No way. Not unless you're taking me, too."

"Absolutely not." Balthazar's expression was stern, his brows drawing together, causing deep furrows between them. Making the worry lines more pronounced.

Dave focused on the older man's eyes, trying to ignore the lines on his face and the extra years the glasses seemed to add to the man's visage. "Why?"

"Just because they know what I am doesn't mean that they're comfortable with it. I helped them out in the past, but it's been decades since then. They haven't seen me in a very long time. It will be unnerving enough for me just show up again. And even at my current age, I'm much younger than I should be by their reckoning. They're going to be unsettled. If two of us show up, they'll do what they can to get rid of us quickly."

"Quick is good, Balthazar."

"And accurate is even better," was his master's stern reply. "We don't have time to waste on mistakes made from quick, sloppy work. I have to go alone."

"Why can't we just stay at a hotel? Veronica and I will stay behind unless you need us. They'll never know."

Balthazar's eyes darkened. He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did whenever something really started to stress him out. "Someone will know. Even if it isn't one of them, it's just as bad."

"_How_?"

"One of them lives in an area that's a haven for Morganians. It's one of the problems he had in the first place. One of the things he owes me for. If I go in, I'll arouse suspicion. But I'm well-known enough that none of them will be expecting a man my age. If I don't do anything too conspicuous, and if I change my appearance slightly, they'll probably assume I'm just another Morganian and I'll do whatever business I have and be on my way. One random sorcerer is no threat. Three of us? That's not common. They'll look into it. And they aren't stupid. Someone's going to figure out who we are. I have to go alone."

"If this place is riddled with Morganians, you think that's really going to up the chances that we're going to agree to this?"

"I'm not asking. I'm telling."

Dave turned to Veronica. "Can't you do something about this?"

She shook her head. "I've been trying. He won't listen. I don't like it either."

"What if there's trouble? What if he can't fool them and these Morganians try to kill him?"

She sighed. "That's what _I_ said, but he's right. We're running out of time and options. And in a place like that, we _will_ arouse suspicion. It will be dangerous for us. Even more so for Balthazar."

"This is stupid," Dave grumbled, glaring down at the chair's armrest. Picking fuzz off of it in an attempt to look like he was doing something other than sulking.

Balthazar cleared his throat. "I'm right here," he snapped irritably. "I may be getting old, but I'm not deaf yet."

"We didn't mean that, Balthazar."

"_And_," he added, ignoring them, "I'm fully capable of taking care of myself." He focused in on Dave. "It's two days. Three, max. I'll be back in time to begin training again."

"Two days is like four years to you." Dave shook his head. "No. You can't just take off alone. Especially not with Horvath—"

"I don't remember asking for your permission, Dave." The man's eyes narrowed warningly. "Remember who the master is."

"I don't remember caring," Dave snapped back, ignoring the clear 'don't push it' tone in Balthazar's voice.

The look on his mentor's face grew so frightening at that response that for half a second Dave was afraid Balthazar was going to shoot a plasma bolt at him whether the landlords liked it or not.

Veronica stood, her sudden movement breaking some of the tension and startling both men into silence. "Stop it, both of you. You're bickering like children again." Her eyes flashed, causing both Dave and Balthazar to exchange one uncomfortable glance and avert their gaze.

"Our concern, Balthazar," she said in a quiet, powerful voice, "isn't that you can't take care of yourself. We know what you're capable of, and adding a few more years to your age isn't going to change that. Having to wait two days for you isn't the issue. My real concern is that something will delay your return. What if you can't get back to us for a week because of some incident? Or more? You could be a decade or two older by then. _That_ is what worries me. And whether you want to admit it or not, you're quickly coming up to your breaking point."

Dave stared at her in confusion. "Breaking point?"

"Up to now, even with the accelerated aging, Balthazar hasn't really changed much." She came around the sofa, gently resting her hands on her husband's shoulders, her eyes focused on Dave as she explained. "But there's going to come a point where he will." She slipped her arms around Balthazar, leaning against him gently. She then turned her attention to her husband, knowing that he needed to hear this as much as Dave. "At some point, Balthazar, you're going to start feeling your age. Not just small aches and pains, but real problems. _That_ is what worries me. I don't want you stranded alone somewhere when that starts to happen."

"Veronica, I'll be fine," he said gently, reaching up and taking one of her hands. "I'm not going to just suddenly get old and weak. It doesn't work that way, and you know it. It's been a gradual process. There's no reason to think that it won't stay that way. Anyway, Merlin was centuries older than I am."

"Balthazar," Veronica responded softly. "You aren't Merlin."

Dave said nothing, feeling sick. Thinking back to Balthazar's obvious pain earlier in the day. Abruptly reminded that in only one week, Balthazar would be in his seventies if they didn't do something. And he'd be in his eighties in two...

He opened his mouth to argue with his master again, then shut it. This was a _stupid_ idea. Veronica was right. What if he got stuck somewhere for a couple weeks? What if he came back an elderly man? Dave winced. What if something went wrong and he wound up stuck somewhere, too old to even get back?

What if someone like Horvath found him? Or any others of the multitude of enemies that Balthazar had amassed in the past thirteen hundred years? What if someone caught him? Or killed him?

Then again, was staying here really any better? Right now, they weren't accomplishing anything. At this rate, his master would die anyway. Sure, this way he'd be among family and friends. Still... if he really thought these old acquaintances could help him, then it maybe would be worth the risk.

"Balthazar's right," he said quietly.

Both Veronica and Balthazar looked over at him in surprise.

Balthazar's eyebrows raised. "What was that?"

Dave looked up, meeting the older man's eyes. "I said you're right," he muttered, begrudgingly. Then, in a louder voice added, "I hate it. And I want to fight you on it... but I can't. If you stay here, we probably won't find a solution. If you talk with those guys, maybe you will. It's a risk we have to take."

Veronica's worried eyes were wide. "Dave—" she began, but the youth stopped her.

"No, Veronica." He shook his head, turning his gaze to her. "I agree with you, too. It's too dangerous for him to go alone. But if that's the only option, we don't have a choice, do we? It was too dangerous for me to face Morgana without my ring. But I did it because I didn't want Morgana to win." His voice lowered a touch. "I didn't want Balthazar to die. I still don't." His eyes shot back to his master, firm resolve written across his face. "If this is what you have to do, Balthazar, then do it. But tell us exactly where you're going. Call us when you get there and when you're leaving."

"I planned on it."

"And," Dave added, his expression serious, "if you aren't back by the end of the third day, Balthazar, I am going to go out and hunt you down. You can get as mad at me as you want when I find you—in fact, you can make my life a living hell—but I'm not going to risk something going wrong."

Balthazar said nothing. His expression was unreadable.

His apprentice held up three fingers for his master to see. "_Three days_. That's it."

The older sorcerer leaned back, a small smile gracing his face. "Three days, huh?" He mimicked his apprentice's motion with his own hand. "This seems awfully familiar." His eyes twinkled in amusement.

Even Veronica managed a very faint smile, glancing down at her husband. "Where have we heard _that_ before?"

Dave was completely confused. "What?"

But apparently no one planned on letting him in on the joke.

"Three days is fine. You won't need to hunt me down, though. If for some reason I'm going to be later than that, I'll make sure to let you know." Balthazar leaned forward to set his glasses down on the table, then stood stiffly. "That's one reason I have a cell phone," he added, "because unlike some people, I actually call when I'm going to be late." He stretched, wincing a little as his back cracked.

Dave turned away, suddenly acquiring an incredible fascination with the carpet. "Okay, then."

Veronica sighed, and Dave saw her come back around the sofa, taking Balthazar's hand and squeezing it tightly. "All right. I won't argue. Just be careful." She reached over and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to check on supper." She smiled faintly, the worry still in her eyes, and gave his hand one more tight squeeze before finally slipping away from him to the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, he flexed the hand a few times absently.

"That hurt you, didn't it?"

Balthazar sent Dave a startled look. "What?"

Dave watched his mentor critically. "Your hand." He motioned vaguely. "When she squeezed it. That hurt you."

His master didn't grace that with a response, bending to pick up the magazines on the sofa. He was moving as slowly has he had when he'd picked up Dave's towel the other day.

Dave winced. Quietly he asked, "It's arthritis, isn't it?"

The older man froze.

"It's in your back. That's what hurt you this morning. And it's why you move so slowly when you bend to pick things up." Dave paused, trying to hide the worry, aware that his master wouldn't appreciate seeing it written all over his apprentice's face when he turned. Of course, it wasn't like Dave could really hide it anyway. Still, he felt like he ought to try.

"I'm fine," Balthazar replied gruffly.

"But it _is_ arthritis, isn't it?"

The man scooped up the magazines and slowly turned to put them with the others on the coffee table. "Yes."

"And it's starting to affect your hands now, too."

Balthazar's storm-blue eyes met his apprentice's brown ones. "Does it really matter?"

Dave nodded. "Yes. Yes, it does. Because you're in pain now. Not to mention the fact that you use your hands when you do magic, and I want to make sure it isn't going to be a problem for you."

"It isn't."

Dave made a face. "You're just saying that to shut me up."

"Dave," the sorcerer said seriously, "it isn't going to be a problem. I'm not lying to you. Just relax. Yes, it's in my back and my hands." He raised one hand to shush his apprentice who had been about to ask another question. "And it's in my shoulder. Nowhere else that I've noticed, so don't ask."

"How bad is it?"

But apparently the conversation was over, because the man straightened. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll make sure you have a couple emergency numbers just in case. I'll call when I get there."

"Flying?"

Balthazar smiled. "I think the people at the Chrysler Building would miss their eagle."

"I didn't mean that."

"I know. I'll just drive. The Phantom's more comfortable anyway. "

"A plane would be faster."

"True. But I'm visiting two people in different states, Dave. It's more practical to just drive to each. I've already calculated the time. I shouldn't be longer than two days. I _won't _be longer than three."

"And you'll be careful?"

His master levelled a cool blue-grey look at him. "Dave, I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself. You worry about practicing while I'm gone." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "And take care of Veronica for me. She's taking this well... but it's hard on her."

"Yeah," Dave muttered. "Don't' worry. I will."

Balthazar nodded at that. "Now go unpack. I'm going to see if she needs any help in the kitchen." At that, Balthazar walked off, leaving his apprentice to his thoughts.

The boy looked after him before getting up slowly and walking to the door to grab his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and trudged across the living room, sending a worried glance in the direction his master had gone.

_You just worry about taking care of yourself, _he thought. _'Cause Veronica's not the only one having a hard time... _With those thoughts, he went down the hall to his room.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to Kaytori and lolo popoki for their **incredibly** helpful beta work. It made a huge difference on this chapter. And thanks to all of you for reading. Please review!_

_Sirius:)  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

_Three days..._ Balthazar thought irritably to himself as he pulled into the parking garage. _Three damn days and it should have only taken two._

It wouldn't have bothered him so much if there were a logical reason for the extra day. If he'd had a difficult time convincing his old "friends" to help him out. Or if they'd required him to stay for research. If the car had broken down. Bad weather. _Anything_.

But his only reason? The trip, which he'd made in record time in the past, had completely exhausted him, and he'd found that a man his age didn't do well driving for long spans of time. He'd had to keep stopping to stretch his legs. Use the bathroom. Get something to eat. Rest. Because if he didn't and instead tried to push himself too far, he'd wind up wearing out. Or his back would start paining him so much that he couldn't stand it. The Phantom was a comfortable car. But for man with a body that was progressively growing older and more arthritic throughout the trip, no car could ever be comfortable enough.

He scowled, finding a parking space and pulling into it. God, he hated getting old. He couldn't imagine how much more fun the next week or so was going to be. Because, though he hated to admit it, Dave and Veronica had been right. This trip had been his breaking point. He really felt his age, and his body was finally starting to show the wear and tear of time. Up until now he'd been aging pretty well.

Balthazar put the car into park and cut the engine, opening the door and slowly getting out. Driving had done nothing good for his back. He slammed the door shut and stretched stiffly, wincing at the shot of pain and a few audible snaps and cracks from the movement. He ran his hand through his greying hair, suddenly realizing to his growing annoyance with himself that he'd forgotten his hat on the passenger seat. He considered getting back in the car to get it, but, realizing what that would entail, changed his mind. It could just sit there. That's why the car had locks.

He walked slowly out of the parking garage into the warm, late afternoon sun. It felt good on his face. He enjoyed the brief walk to the apartment building. He hesitated once inside, eyeing the stairs and, after a moment of deliberation, choose the elevator. He sighed and approached it, jamming the up button with his finger. He generally preferred the stairs, but, he reluctantly admitted to himself, they really weren't all that appealing at the moment. He was tired and just wanted to get into his apartment.

After a short wait followed by an even shorter ride up the elevator, he was finally at his floor.

_Thank God._

He just wanted to sit down with a cup of tea for awhile and relax as well as he could through Dave's inevitable barrage of questions and anxiety attacks. Balthazar smiled faintly. Though he had to admit, if only to himself, that it was kind of nice having people worrying about him again, even if it were a bit irritating. It had been a long time.

Just as he approached his apartment, a nearby door opened and one of his neighbors stepped out, sending him a strange look. She was one of the few neighbors he actually spoke to now and then on the elevator. Nice little chatterbox, but not someone he felt like chatting with at the moment. He flashed her a small smile, hoping it would appease the obvious curiosity in her eyes.

It didn't.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, approaching him awkwardly. "I don't mean to bother, but are they expecting you?" She flushed, obviously embarrassed to be butting in. "I'm not trying to pry," she said quickly before he could respond, "but they're out right now. I just..." She trailed off, clearly hoping he'd just answer and save her having to explain herself.

He flashed her a smile, amused. "Yes, they are," he replied smoothly. He extended a hand to her. "I'm Balthazar's father. I'm here for a visit. Just got in."

Her eyes widened as she took his hand. "Oh, of course you are!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. You look just like him. I should have realized."

His smile grew. Concerned neighbors. Also a nice change from his nomadic past. "Not a problem," he responded. "It's nice to see that there are people who still watch out for each other these days."

She returned the smile, finally more at ease. "They're good neighbors," she replied simply. "I chat with your son now and then."

"Really?" He glanced back at the door, hoping she'd take the hint.

She didn't. Instead she continued. "Yes, though I haven't seen him in at least a week now. I was starting to worry."

Balthazar smiled. "He's fine. I just spoke with him this morning. I'll let him know you asked on him, though." He reached for the doorknob. "Now, I hate to do this, but it's been a long drive..."

She nodded. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I'll let you go then. Tell him I said hello, then." She turned away. She paused just as he was about to open the door. "Oh, and wish him a happy birthday for me!"

His brow furrowed and he let go of the knob. "Happy birthday?" he asked. "Who said it was his birthday?"

Her eyes met his. "A friend of his visited earlier. He came all the way from England. It was a shame that Balthazar was out." At his blank look, she added quickly. "He said he was dropping in to leave a gift." She glanced down at her watch. "Oh! I'm running late, though, so I'd best go. Nice to meet you, Mr. Blake."

He nodded vaguely, his gaze turning back to the apartment door. As soon as she was out of sight, he raised his hand to test the wards, something it hadn't even occurred to him to bother with earlier. Sure enough, they had been tampered with.

"Dammit."

So now the question was how to deal with the situation. Horvath might not even be in there anymore, but he couldn't risk just walking in unprepared. Especially since he was sure that whatever that little gift was, he wasn't going to like it. Of all the damn times for him to finally resurface...

He couldn't stand out here much longer either. If his old friend _were_waiting for him, then he must already know that Balthazar was here. There would be no taking the Morganian by surprise, which could be a problem. Magic generally didn't weaken with age, but everything else certainly did. And Balthazar was well aware of the fact that to top everything off, his reflexes had also slowed. But regardless, standing outside the door wasn't going to do anything except increase the likelihood that Dave and Veronica would return before he could take care of his little problem. He finally reached for the door again. He wanted to deal with this before they returned and wound up in danger as well.

He clicked the door open and slipped inside, shutting it behind him, so no one in the hall would be endangered if a battle broke out. Keeping his back to the door, he scanned the room. Nothing appeared to be out of place, and nothing sounded out of the ordinary. He didn't feel any rogue spells, though if Horvath had decided to mess with any physical objects in the room such as the mirrors or rugs, he wouldn't know until he was practically on top of it. All seemed normal. Which meant that Horvath had left some physical goodie or else he was still lurking.

Carefully, he stepped forward, quietly placing his keys on the table. His leather coat he kept on to provide him at least some additional protection just in case. Nothing in the living room. He hesitated, trying to decide where to look next. Probably the kitchen, given that he had to pass it to get to the hallway. If Horvath _were_there, why give him an opportunity to catch Balthazar from the side or behind as he went by?

He carefully entered the kitchen, looking around. The room seemed clear. Stepping inside, he skimmed the table and counters, looking for anything new, interesting, and potentially deadly. Nothing. Good. Two rooms down. Five to go. Then, if Horvath _were_actually gone, he'd get to start testing every single object in the apartment for magical tampering. God, he was not in the mood for this today.

He was about to turn to leave the room and continue his search down the hall, when he heard the soft rustle of clothing approaching from behind. He tensed, grateful that if nothing else, his hearing wasn't failing him. Carefully, he stepped forward as though he were checking the counter to give himself more space to block an attack. Especially with Horvath's penchant for setting things on fire. He liked his kitchen table. He'd like to keep it in one uncharred piece if possible.

He had only moments to prepare himself, almost immediately he could feel the electrifying tension in the air of a plasma bolt forming, he spun to block it, ignoring as best he could the sharp protest of his back and shoulder. The bolt blasted off the shield and deflected into the cabinets, cracking one of the doors. He shot back a blast almost before Horvath could block. Another blast to the cabinets. _Thank god we soundproofed the apartment..._He didn't need more concerned neighbors checking on him only to get themselves caught in the crossfire.

Horvath blasted a temporal displacement in Balthazar's direction and the Merlinian barely managed to dodge it. This time the sharp movement threw him slightly off balance and he slammed into the counter, his arm and shoulder screaming in pain from the impact. _Dammit... _He mentally cursed, angry at his aging body for almost failing him. He had to end this quickly before he no longer could. Forcing himself back up properly on his feet, he whipped out two more plasma bolts that he fired in rapid succession. One caught Horvath in the arm and slammed him back into one of the kitchen chairs, which he took down with a crash. The Morganian was on his feet in moments, a fireball ready which he blasted toward his adversary, just missing Balthazar and taking out the toaster instead.

"You're replacing that," the Merlinian growled, lashing out a temporal displacement of his own, finally getting a solid hit in on Horvath. The man stopped in his tracks, the plasma bolt he had been forming, growing slowly in his hands. Balthazar finally stopped for a moment to catch his breath, annoyed by how weak his aging body felt. He really wasn't in bad shape for a man his age, but he certainly wasn't what he used to be. And his new limitations were starting to piss him off. Eying his adversary, Balthazar shoved the crock pot, which would be in the way of the bolt when it launched, out of the way so at least one of his appliances would survive the attack. Veronica would kill him if that was damaged. There was really nothing he could do about the refrigerator which would now take the brunt of the blow.

Slowly rotating his aching shoulder, Balthazar approached Horvath as the displacement began to fade, and stopped at the man's side, electricity crackling in his hand, so he'd be ready when his "old friend" was freed.

Moments later the spell broke and Horvath's bolt predictably hit the fridge, forcefully ramming it into the wall. Before he could even manage another attack, Balthazar blasted Horvath's cane from his hand and with a concussion wave, hurled Horvath over the table and against the wall, causing a framed picture to come crashing down, its glass shattering on the floor. "Hello, Horvath," he responded coolly. "Why don't you hang around awhile, so we can chat?" His words were casual, but he couldn't hide the exhaustion from his voice. The fight had taken its toll on him. He slowly bent to retrieve Horvath's cane, then, stiffly standing, he dropped it on the table and yanked one of the remaining chairs out, dropping heavily onto it. Reluctantly admitting to himself that the fight had taken a lot more out of him than he'd expected. Only a few short weeks ago a scuffle like this would have been nothing. Now, he suspected, it was going to take him a while to recover. He scowled, keeping his hand raised, as he forced the Morganian against the wall.

"Now," he said, forcing his voice to remain quiet and level, refusing to allow Horvath to see what kind of shape the fight had left him in, "I'm assuming this wasn't a pleasure visit..."

But Horvath said nothing, merely staring at him, his eyes widening. Finally, now that the actual fighting was over, he'd managed to get a solid look at the Merlinian himself rather than just focusing on the movements and the attacks. His silence lasted only a moment longer before, in a surprisingly quiet voice he replied, "Balthazar... what's happened to you?"

The old sorcerer stared quietly at his one-time friend, hiding his own surprise behind an impassive mask. As soon as his neighbor had described Horvath, Balthazar had honestly begun expecting the man to come in mocking him about his age, somehow having been its cause. But the expression on the Morganian's face was too genuine. He'd had no idea. His untimely arrival had merely been a coincidence.

Finally, Balthazar answered simply. "Stress. What are you doing here?"

"You're dying." Again, the odd tone of voice that implied surprisingly that Horvath was none to happy with this revelation. Why? He should have been overjoyed.

"So I noticed," Balthazar replied dryly. "Care to answer my question, or would you just like to stay pinned to my wall for the rest of the afternoon? I always wanted a bug collection. Why not start out with a roach?"

The Englishman finally got his wits about him, glaring fiercely at the old sorcerer before him. "Let me down and we'll talk."

"I'm no idiot, Horvath."

The other man glared at him. "I'm unarmed. What do you expect me to do, Balthazar... kick you into submission? You have me. Let me down."

"Why are you here?" His voice was flat.

Horvath didn't answer for a long moment, quietly studying his old friend before finally answering, his face twisting into an expression of distaste at his words. "I'm here because I need your help," he choked out.

"Since when is attacking a man from behind a way to gain his trust?" Balthazar replied coolly.

The Morganian snorted. "Let's not play these little games, Balthazar. You and I both know that no matter how I came upon you, I wouldn't gain your trust. If I hadn't attacked first, you'd have thrown me into the living room or locked me back in the Grimhold before I could even say two words to you. My only chance to speak with you was to take you down first and then force you to listen."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes at the other man. "Well, I'm listening. You're staying up on the wall, but maybe if your story's good enough, I'll let you down."

The Brit took a deep calming breath, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what's happened to you first. As much as I hate to admit it, you're currently no good to me dead... or even half-dead as the case may be."

The Merlinian's expression didn't change. "You really aren't in any position to demand answers, so how about you start out with our little storytime? What do you want?"

Horvath's eyes bore darkly into Balthazar's own. "Fine," he bit out coldly. "It has to do with a mutual friend of ours and a little trinket that he seems to have picked up from your store during our foray into the urn."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "What friend?"

"Balthazar," Horvath replied, his tone patronizing, "think. How many men could possibly be old enough for us to both remember?"

With that Balthazar's impassive mask finally dropped and he stared at the Morganian in surprise. "Nikolai's still alive?"

Horvath nodded. "Apparently so. And from what I gather, you foolishly left him with access to the talisman."

* * *

_Author's Note: A bit thank you to lolo popoki and kaytori for betaing this chapter. It needed it... a lot. And thanks to all of you readers out there for your patience. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review!  
_

_Sirius:)  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Dave stood impatiently behind Veronica, holding most of the groceries, so she could pull out her building key. "Do you think he's back yet?" he asked for what had to have been the tenth time in as many minutes.

Veronica didn't even look at him. "I hope so," was her only response.

"If he's not here, I'm going out to find him."

She glanced back at him, smiling a little. "You could at least wait until morning. You know he's on his way back. He called when he crossed the state line." She opened the door, holding it for Dave.

He slipped in past her, using his back to hold it open for her—trying to be a gentleman. "I'm not waiting. Three days was the limit, and that was technically before seven o'clock this morning, which I'm well aware of since that's when I realized he'd soundproofed my room so I wouldn't hear him leave and try to follow him." He let the door go as soon as she was through and followed her to the elevator.

She stopped in front of the lit panel and pushed the up button. "Dave," she responded patiently. "Give him until tomorrow. I'm worried about him, too, but he won't be later than that unless something happens."

The door slid open and, after letting an elderly gentleman and his dog out, they stepped inside.

Dave jammed his finger into the button for their floor. "And what if something already _has_happened, Veronica? He thought the trip would take two days and we're already partway through day three."

She shifted one of her bags to her other hand so she could tuck some loose hair behind her ear. "Two days was unrealistic to begin with. He couldn't have made the trip in less than three at best."

"It's Balthazar," Dave argued stubbornly. "You know him. When he decides to do something—"

"He's much older now," she interrupted quietly.

That silenced him.

"He's a very strong person, Dave, and very determined... but he was around sixty years old when he left. And he's probably approaching seventy now."

"Sixty isn't old."

"He moves more slowly now," she continued sternly, "and has to rest more often. He's in pain, and I'm certain that riding that car of his isn't helping. Whether or not he wants to admit it, we both know that something's wrong with his back."

"Yeah, I know, but he's been dealing with it fine, so far. He brought painkillers. I saw him toss them into his bag."

"You do realize that the fact that he's bringing medicine is another sign for worry," she responded. "Anyway, that might not be enough for such a long drive. You haven't seen what shape he's in when his guard is down. I have. Just trust me when I say that he couldn't make the trip in two days if he actually wanted to accomplish anything. I'm honestly surprised he's returning so soon. Relieved... but still surprised. I really was afraid he'd wind up having to stay out the week."

The elevator door opened just then. She stepped out and began walking down the hall.

Dave followed close behind. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I just hate this waiting. I'm already not looking forward to suddenly seeing him years older. The gradual aging was bad enough. This is going to be like having him return after five or six years." He winced. "And I keep thinking of that breaking point you mentioned. I don't like seeing him get old so quickly. I'm going to hate it when he starts having to really _act_old."

"Me, too," she replied quietly. She stopped at the door and twisted the knob open. The light was already on in the apartment. Balthazar's keys and cell phone were on the table.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank God._He walked to the sofa and tossed the bags down, intending to hunt the old man down and get the initial shock of seeing him again out of the way.

Veronica would have none of it. "Pick them up and put them away," she scolded. "There's milk in there. And eggs."

Dave sighed and began gathering them up again.

"Balthazar?" Veronica called as she set her own keys beside his.

"In the kitchen. I'll be right out."

Dave froze at the sound of his master's voice. It had changed again, this time sounding rougher still. Worn. And tired. He couldn't blame bad cell phone reception on the changes this time. Veronica had been right. The drive had taken its toll on him.

Before Dave could even haul the bags into the kitchen, Balthazar stepped out, commenting, "There's tea in there. I made extra. We need to talk, and I thought we could all use some."

Upon seeing his master, Dave dropped the bags onto the end of the sofa once more. This time, Veronica didn't stop him, setting her own down on the coffee table, her eyes locked on Balthazar as well.

Up until this point, Balthazar could still be described as having simply grown older. Now, however, even Dave had to admit that Balthazar had finally gotten old. His hair, which had been slowly frosting over with silver, was now shot through with grey. Balthazar's face had been lined before, but now some of those lines, such as those around his eyes and mouth, appeared to have deepened and multiplied. Dave uncomfortably accepted the fact that Balthazar actually had clear wrinkles now.

His body was showing wear as well. His clothes hung a bit loosely on his frame, implying lost weight. And given the shape that Balthazar was normally in, Dave could bet that weight had been muscle.

Dave averted his gaze, trying to pull his panicking mind together. Focusing on whatever else he could that would keep some of the horror and worry off of his face. His eyes dropped to the man's hands which were wrapped around a coffee mug, presumably filled with the tea.

Dave was momentarily thrown by this small detail. Where was that damned little teacup that Balthazar liked so much? His eyes roved to the man's hands, and it clicked. The arthritis. It had been paining Balthazar before he'd left, when he'd been years younger. It must have gotten worse. Delicate little cups were now likely becoming awkward and impractical.

Dave had always hated those stupid little cups. He'd actually enjoyed that one time his plasma bolt had accidentally blasted one out of the older man's hand. The stupid little thing had looked so ridiculous in the hands of someone Dave knew could kill him on the spot if he'd wanted.

He missed that cup now.

Balthazar lifted the mug to his lips and Dave winced at the sight. God, that even looked like it hurt. The joints were noticeably swollen. Enough so that Balthazar had removed all but his sorcerer's ring. His hands looked naked without them.

Balthazar caught him staring and commented mildly by way of explanation, "I prefer good old-fashioned heat to anti-inflammatories."

Dave stared blankly back up at Balthazar's face. "What?"

"You were staring at the cup."

Dave shook his head incredulously. "Balthazar, I was staring at your hands... right now your cup choices are the the least of my worries."

Veronica quietly approached her husband, worry etched into her face. "Welcome back," she said, kissing him softly and resting her hands gently on his. There was a dull glow to her ring.

"Thank you," he said simply, gently brushing some hair out of her face when she released him.

It took Dave a moment to understand that she'd used magic to help ease some of the pain. And after another moment he realized that she'd probably been doing that all along. Which meant that the pain he'd been seeing in the older man's eyes had already been dulled for him. Dave suddenly understood what Veronica had meant when she'd said that he'd never really seen the shape Balthazar was in when his guard was down. He felt sick.

"Are you okay?" Dave finally managed to choke out, grasping desperately for anything to say. "How's your back?" Subtle.

Balthazar simply shrugged. "It's fine."

Dave's lips pressed together in an irritated line. "Come on, Balthazar. If it's anything like your hands, then I'd like to know what your definition of 'fine' is."

"It means that I'm standing up straight, so I'm obviously not dying from the pain and agony." His voice was laced in sarcasm, his expression unimpressed. Shockingly he didn't seem to want to discuss how he felt.

At the moment Dave was worried enough not to care. "Don't give me that look, Balthazar. You knew I was going to ask." He took a step forward. "I have a whole list of things I'm going to ask right after it, so you might as well bring out the entire teapot. You'll need it."

Balthazar glanced away, walking toward the sofa. "I said it's fine," he insisted irritably, easing himself onto one of the cushions. "Save your concerns about my health for later. I just got older while I was gone, which we expected. That's all."

"You aged a great deal more than we expected, Balthazar," Veronica responded quietly. "You shouldn't be this old yet."

"Yeah," Dave agreed, still trying to shake off his discomfort at his master's worn appearance. He dropped into the nearby armchair. "What happened to 'late-sixties at most?'"

"We were wrong."

"I realize that," Dave replied sharply.

"Then it was a stupid question, wasn't it?" There was no heat to the old man's words, though. He was merely stating a fact.

Veronica walked to the sofa and lowered herself to the seat beside him, slipping one arm around him. Resting her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped one of his own arms around her in a comforting hug.

For a fraction of a second there was obvious strain to his features... worry in his eyes. The expression disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was too late. Dave had noticed. And Dave knew Balthazar well enough to realize that if he was worried enough to slip up and let it show, even for a moment, things were worse than he was making them appear.

"What's going on, Balthazar?" Dave said seriously. "You're worried now. And if _you_ are finally worried, then _I_should probably be terrified. I'd like to know what I'm going to be terrified of before it happens."

Balthazar studied his apprentice a moment before finally responding. "You're being melodramatic again, Dave," he responded, his voice a touch amused. Something was still off in his eyes, though, and Dave didn't miss that fact.

"What's going on, Balthazar?"

"Two things."

"Which are?" Dave asked through gritted teeth, as usual growing annoyed with his infuriating master.

Veronica gently tightened her grip on her husband. "It's speeding up isn't it?" she asked softly, fear for once written in her eyes.

He looked down at her, managing a small, comforting smile. "I don't think so," he replied, gently. "I think we just miscalculated."

His apprentice shook his head. "'Just miscalculated?' Balthazar, miscalculating is just as bad as having it speed up. Either way you got really old in three days." He stopped there, realizing that his master was likely to take that the wrong way, true though it may be.

Surprisingly the old man didn't comment on the youth's tactless reference to his advanced age. "Miscalculating is a lot better than having it speed up, Dave. Speeding up means anything goes. It could jump again and I could be dead by morning." Veronica tightened her grip on her husband and Dave went white at those words. Quickly Balthazar continued, mentally kicking himself for adding to their obvious concern. "Miscalculating," he clarified, "means that I'm older because we were wrong to start with. That means it's remained stable and in the medical world, stability—even with a chronic illness—is always better than a turn for the worse. Yes, I'm older than we'd expected, but at least we don't have to figure another variable into the equation. We just have to tweak the numbers a bit." He paused, thoughtfully adding, "Based on the shape I'm in now, I'm guessing I'm aging closer to two and a half to maybe three years, rather than two."

Dave shook his head, unplacated. "So you were only six months off? That's not a big difference, Balthazar. Are you sure? I mean, you got pretty old for only a six month difference." He winced as soon as those words were out of his mouth. One of these times, his master was going to lose his patience with his apprentice's penchant for saying exactly the wrong thing—true though it may be—at the wrong time.

Lucky, the old man simply turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "It's been over two weeks since this started, which means those six months per day have accumulated enough to make us almost a decade off on our estimate of my current age. That throws me into my seventies now, rather than just my sixties like we'd expected. I've been older all along. I was probably already in my mid-sixties when I left. Apparently I just aged well back then. It didn't really start hitting me hard until recently."

Dave's expression grew dark. "You've hit your breaking point then." It wasn't a question. It was what they'd feared. The smooth, gradual aging was over. From here on in, his master was going to be visibly changing every day. The changes would likely be abrupt now... and they wouldn't all be physical. He shot his master a suspicious look. "You've known about this from the beginning, haven't you? You knew this was running faster than just a year or two."

His master's brows drew together, lines on his forehead and around his eyes deepening. "What?"

"You hid it because you knew I'd freak out," the boy responded, trying not to focus on how every expression on the man's face seemed to further age it in Dave's eyes.

The old man's expression darkened. "No, Dave. Those were the numbers." At his apprentice's incredulous look, he added. "When have I ever lied to you?"

The boy rolled his eyes at that. "You hide things all the time, Balthazar."

The older man's eyes flashed. "But that's not what you're accusing me of. We specifically told you that we'd calculated my age progression at one to two years per day, and that's what we believed. I may hide details, Dave, but I'm not going to blatantly lie to you. You may not like my moral judgment, but even I have my limits and flat out lying in a life-or-death situation is far beyond them."

"Stop it," Veronica commanded, her voice quiet but firm. "Now isn't the time to fight. If we're going to figure anything out, then we need to be working together. Immediately." Her gaze drifted back up to her husband's tired face. "Balthazar, if you're aging three years per day, we don't have a month left."

He shook his head. "No. We have a week—maybe two—at best."

His apprentice's eyes widened in panic. "That's not enough time. What are we supposed to do in two weeks?"

Balthazar shrugged, then winced slightly at the sharp pain in his shoulder it caused. "Accept it?" he responded simply. "Move on? We have other issues to worry about. No need to waste time on something we can't fix."

He'd barely gotten the words out before Dave and Veronica both snapped in unison, "No."

"Balthazar," Dave growled, running his hands through his dark hair in absolute frustration. "Why are you giving up? You're willing to fight to the death for any other cause, but when it comes to your own life, you're willing to die without even putting up a fight."

"I'm just being realistic," the old man replied. "Think about it. I'm already in my seventies. In another two days, I'm going to be in my eighties. Anything over a week is actually pushing it. That's a best-case scenario, and it's assuming that I'm aging less than three years per day and that I'm going to live to be pretty damn old."

Dave squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back covering his face with his hands. "God," he moaned out through his fingers. "Like we needed to make this more difficult." He dropped his hands limply back to his lap, lowing his face again. Desperately, he suggested, "Maybe it's just stress making you look so much older. Maybe your first estimate really was right. You could just look really old for your age..." He trailed off at that, knowing how unlikely that was. A man in Balthazar's shape, even a man who didn't take care of himself as well as he should, was still probably not going to be in this bad of shape if he were only in his mid-sixties. It wasn't impossible... just not likely either.

His master shook his head, sending Dave a surprisingly sympathetic look. "No, Dave. I've been feeling older than I should, too. That's one of the reasons I made this trip in the first place... so I could get some outside opinions."

Dave scooted forward in his seat, his eyes taking on a somewhat more hopeful quality. "Yeah. How did that go? Did they help?" He tried to ignore the fact that Balthazar should be more optimistic if he'd learned anything useful. But you could never tell with him. It _was_Balthazar, after all. He wasn't exactly a prime source of joy and optimism even at the best of times.

"Who are these friends of yours?" Veronica added, hope also glimmering faintly in her eyes.

Balthazar straightened in his seat for a moment, twisting his back a bit, trying to work a kink out. He winced, apparently failing, and Veronica moved her hand to his back, gently resting her hand on it, likely easing the pain there as well. His expression was a combination of annoyance and relief. She was obviously helping, but he hated needing it. Dave couldn't imagine how bad the drive must have been without her at his side.

"Balthazar?" he quietly prompted, trying not to think too hard on that one. Now he understood why Balthazar had packed the painkillers.

The old man sighed, taking Veronica's other hand in his own. "I know a man who works at the federal DNA lab at Marshall University. He owes me a couple of favors. I hate having to call them in, but he's got the capability to do a detailed comparative analysis of my blood. If the problem's genetic, he's the best person I know to figure it out."

Dave's brow furrowed at that. "Wait... comparative analysis? Doesn't that imply that he'd need blood from before all this started?"

Balthazar paused a moment before answering. "Don't ask."

"Right. So how long's that going to take?"

"A couple of days."

Dave sat up straight in his seat. "A couple of days? Balthazar, we don't have a—"

"We don't have a choice." Balthazar's voice was firm. "That's how long it will take."

"And your other friend?" Veronica prompted quietly.

"Dr. Kirk from University of Pennsylvania. He's done extensive studies on medieval sciences and magics."

Veronica cocked her head to the side slightly, considering. "An alchemist, then?"

Her husband shook his head. "No. A researcher of alchemy. There aren't any alchemists left that I know of."

Dave had just been staring at the couple quietly throughout that entire exchange, trying to dredge up the very little knowledge he had of this topic. "Alchemy...?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that like Sorcerer's Stone stuff?"

Veronica shot him a puzzled look. "What kind of stone?" Her confused eyes flitted over to her husband.

"You know... the immortality rock," Dave responded tentatively, certain that he was somehow about to be ridiculed. He wasn't disappointed.

His master took a deep, deceptively patient breath. "That would be the Philosopher's Stone, Dave."

"In _Harry Potter_it's the Sorcerer's Stone."

The old man's lips flattened into a tight, irritated line. "Dave, what have I told you about basing the real world on children's books and video games?" Before his apprentice could come up with a comeback, he continued, "They changed the title for American readers. Probably figured you guys were too dense to get the alchemical reference." He snorted at that. "Apparently they were right."

Dave's eyes flashed. "If that makes _me_dense, then so are you."

"I'm not American, Dave."

"We're getting off topic," Veronica cut in sharply, a strain in her voice that silenced both men, reminding them of the problem at hand.

Dave winced, feeling guilty at how easily distracted he was, though to be honest, it had been nice to banter with his master for a moment, even if it _had_made him feel like an idiot as usual. For that short time, he'd managed to forget the problem at hand and relax, even in the face of his master's aged frame. He'd had too few moments like this in the past few days. He missed them.

Balthazar merely nodded, gently squeezing his wife's hand. "Right." He shot a quick glance at Dave. "The Philosopher's Stone isn't real, anyway. It's just something people tried to will into existence because they wanted their lives to be perfect and unending." He snorted derisively at that idea, and Dave wasn't really surprised. He knew his master's opinion of immortality. He'd been stuck in that state for long enough. A"living hell" he'd called it once. Dave wouldn't be surprised if Balthazar had hated it worse than the rapid aging he was experiencing now. "I was just looking into some remedies. Just because they never found their stone, doesn't mean that some alchemists didn't come close. Most of it was crap, but some was valid. I thought he might know something I'd forgotten."

"Did he?" Dave prompted.

Balthazar shrugged. "He said he has to look into it. Could take a—"

"Couple of days," Dave finished for him. "Of course. So what are we supposed to do while we wait for him? Just sit around an watch you hit your eighties?"

"We train."

Dave merely glared at him. "Not funny."

Balthazar's expression didn't change. "I'm not joking Dave. I offered you three days off. You got four. Don't push it."

"No. We aren't training, Balthazar."

"You gave your word."

Dave leapt to his feet at that, finally unable to take it. "Dammit, Balthazar. You were supposed to be a decade younger than this. I'm not training with you aging so quickly."

Balthazar let go of Veronica's hand. He stood stiffly to face his apprentice. "I may be getting old, Dave, but I'm still fully capable of training you. This is my choice, not yours, so get over it. I'm your master, and we are training."

"No, Balthazar. You were in enough pain just sitting there. Training is going to kill you." He flinched at his poor choice of words.

"My choice."

Dave gritted his teeth. "What about my choice? I don't want you to wind up in worse shape than you're already in. Bones break easier and they take a hell of a lot longer to heal when you get older, Balthazar, and you're definitely older."

The man's blue eyes flashed. "Let me put it this way, Dave. I'm dying. And if we don't manage to fix things, the next couple of days may be the only time you've got left to work with me. I'm already angry that I may be leaving my apprentice half-trained. At least give me this much time to finish what I can."

Dave fell silent at those words. How did Balthazar do that? Suddenly change it from a stupid training session to something so important to his master that Dave would actually feel guilty refusing? He sighed. And he knew he wouldn't say no. Not now. Balthazar wanted this, and the man rarely asked for anything for himself. There was no way Dave could refuse him one of the few times he finally did.

"Fine," he snapped. "Not until tomorrow, though. You're hurting and I want you to get some rest first. Can you at least give me that much?" His voice was steady, but his eyes were pleading.

Balthazar hesitated a moment before nodding. "Fair enough," he responded simply. "Tomorrow morning, then." He lowered himself back onto the sofa, and reached to the coffee table to grab his tea. He took a sip and made a face.

"You're going to gripe about it being cold, aren't you?" Dave muttered, eyeing the man.

Balthazar sighed and slowly moved to stand again. "I'll just heat it up."

Dave quickly walked over to his master before the man had even gotten to his feet, something he'd never have managed even three days ago. "Here. Give it to me."

He reached for the mug, not wanting Balthazar to have to get up yet again. "I'll get you some fresh stuff. I'm getting myself some, anyway," he added at the last moment so that his master wouldn't protest. He glanced at Veronica. "Want some?"

"That's all right."

Dave nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Dave, wait..." Balthazar, began, but Dave didn't let him finish, commenting as he reached the room, "It's fine. I'm thirsty and I know you... if I don't drink some of it, you'll finish the whole pot. You don't need that much caffeine." He didn't wait for a response, walking the rest of the way to the kitchen. He clicked the light on has he stepped into the room. It took him a moment to process the scene before him. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the confines of the room. He stood there a moment in dead silence, unable to imagine what could possibly have happened. He'd passed the point where he could register anything new. Quietly, he turned and stepped back out of the kitchen and in a deceptively calm voice asked, "Balthazar... what happened to your kitchen?"

"The kitchen?" Veronica asked, glancing warily at her husband. Her voice took on a firmer, somewhat suspicious tone, "What's wrong with our kitchen?"

Dave's hands clenched tightly around his master's mug as he noticed the way the man carefully avoided both of their eyes. "Well, the toaster, for example, is in like five pieces, some of which are wedged into the cabinets. I hope you guys don't plan on getting your security deposit back."

Veronica's eyebrows lifted as she sent a hard look in her husband's direction. "Balthazar, what happened before we got home?"

The old man rubbed his hand over the stubble along his jawline as he responded calmly. "That was the second thing we needed to discuss." He finally locked eyes with his apprentice. "We had a visitor."

* * *

_Author's Note: First of all, a thank you to kaytori, lolo popoki and FrostPhoenix for their beta work! And thanks to you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter._

_Second, a little plug. My dad's 5th grade class writes a book every year. Lately, I've been helping him put these stories online on fictionpress so the kids can get reviews and people can read them. There are some great stories out there. We're working to get all of the old ones out there (generally one story written per year by different classes), so there are already quite a few of varying genres. It would be great if you'd check their stuff out. They would love the reviews and honestly, they get really excited seeing which countries people are from who read their stuff. Would you mind stopping in, even if you only check out and review one of their stories. They aren't super long, but they're all a lot of fun. Here's the link (I added spaces between each symbol so the link shows up):_

http : / / www . fictionpress . com / u / 761829 / Brussel _ Sprouts_  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

"A visitor?" Dave stared at his master incredulously as he walked slowly back into the living room. He set the mug back down on the coffee table and dropped heavily into the armchair. "What kind of a visitor?"

Balthazar's expression was impassive as though they were simply discussing an old friend dropping by. "An angry one."

Dave glared at the man. "I gathered that much," he growled, "given that it looks like Horvath's little Battery Park bull decided to throw a party in there."

Balthazar's expression was actually a touch amused. "Funny you should say that..." he murmured.

Veronica's eyes narrowed at those words. "It was Horvath, wasn't it?"

His eyes met hers. "Yes. We had a small... disagreement. He damaged a few things and then hung around so we could have a chat."

Dave's grip tightened on the arms of the chair. He was torn between outrage at his master having failed to mention this and worry that his master was hiding serious injuries. Finally, his concern overcame anger and he managed to spit out, "What did he do to you? Are you okay? Do you need someone to heal you? Is that why you're hurting so much?"

"Take a breath, Dave," his master replied dryly. "I'm fine."

"You couldn't mention this earlier?" Veronica interrupted, her voice angry.

"I started to, but you began asking questions about my trip." The old man's expression was mild, but a muscle was working in his jaw and his voice was tight. "I can't discuss everything at once, and honestly my health seemed to be your priority since you walked in the door."

"Your health," Veronica replied sharply, "has been our priority since you began aging. Since _before_ then, actually, since _you_ don't worry about it. But that doesn't mean an outright attack against you isn't our concern as well. We could have been at least treating your injures while we've been talking." Her hands had tightened on her knees, bunching handfuls of her long skirt in her tense hands.

"Did he just attack you and leave?" Dave added, leaning forward. "What did he want? We shouldn't have gone for the groceries until you were back. What if he'd killed you instead of—"

Annoyance finally flashed in the old man's eyes. "Thank you both for your votes of confidence," he snapped irritably, silencing them. "Actually, I took him down. If you desperately want to treat the bruise on my arm, go ahead, but I'm pretty sure if I give it a couple of days it's going to go away on its own."

Dave and Veronica just stared at Balthazar quietly for a moment. Finally, Dave said in a somewhat disbelieving voice, "Wait. You beat him? Even though—"

"Even though I'm an old man? Yes, Dave. I beat him. I had him against the wall after he blew apart half of the kitchen and we had a nice little talk about why he'd paid us a visit." There was a frustrated flash to his eyes. "Is it really such a surprise?"

Dave just blinked at him. "Yes, actually." At his master's glare, he added, "I'm sorry, Balthazar. You can get pissed off at me if you want, but it is. You're in pain just sitting on the sofa and you've been moving slow for days now. I didn't think you'd be able to react quickly enough against someone half your age."

Balthazar studied him quietly for a moment, finally admitting, "I'm not saying it was easy. I'm just saying that I did it." He scowled. "A week ago, I'd have had no trouble with him. These days..." He shook his head. "I'm paying for it now. Probably will be tomorrow, too."

"That why you left the kitchen a mess?" the boy asked quietly.

The old man shrugged. "It was either fix the kitchen or make some tea and rest." He reluctantly added, "The fight tired me out, so the tea won."

Veronica was still clearly upset that her husband had failed to mention these small details immediately, but the fact that he was relatively uninjured had put her somewhat at ease. She finally let go of her skirt, and gently took his hand in hers, careful not to hold it too tightly. "At least you're all right," she said quietly. Her eyes flashed then, and her voice hardened. "But next time tell us immediately." Unthinkingly, she squeezed his hand and he flinched, his face momentarily twisting in pain as he instinctively pulled his hand from hers.

Her eyes widened in alarm, guilt and worry registering in them, and she carefully placed hers around his again, drawing it toward her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, horrified. She gently traced her fingers along the top of his hand, again resting them on his swollen joints to draw out a little of the pain she'd unintentionally caused.

Dave had looked away, trying not to think about the fact that a simple thing like squeezing his hand had hurt Balthazar that much. Obviously his master was underexaggerating the fight with Horvath. He'd won, which was amazing. But even if Horvath _hadn't_ managed to injure him, the fight itself had probably taken a lot more out of Balthazar than he was letting on, even with his small concession. The man was probably putting everything he had into appearing _this_ good. The second he got to his room and was out of Dave's view, he was likely going to be turning to Veronica for a lot more help. Dave was certain of it. And he hated knowing that, even though a small, guilty part of him was grateful he wouldn't have to see it. At least, not yet.

"So," Dave continued, trying to bring their focus back to their new problem. "Where did you stash Horvath?" A hopeful look struck him. "Is he back in the Grimhold? One down and like a hundred thousand Morganians to go?"

Balthazar studied him a moment, the pain finally fading from all but his eyes. "I doubt there are even that many left, Dave. Sorcerers are a dying breed. The Wars took care of most of that." He shook his head.

Dave studied his master, realizing what was going on. His eyes narrowed. "You haven't answered me, Balthazar. And when you don't answer, then I usually don't like what you're going to say... Where did you stash Horvath?"

Balthazar sighed. "I didn't _stash_ him anywhere. There's a... situation that needs to be resolved, and locking Horvath in the Grimhold basically guarantees that things will only get worse."

Veronica's hand was still gently stroking her husband's, but it stopped at that. "A situation?" she asked tentatively. "What kind of situation?"

"Yeah," Dave added. "And if you didn't lock Horvath away, then where is he?"

"Gone," Balthazar responded, choosing to answer Dave rather than his wife. He averted his eyes to avoid actually looking at either of them. "I'd expect he's back wherever he lives."

Dave leapt to his feet at that. "_What_? Balthazar, you let him go? Are you insane? _Why_? He'll just go and attack you again."

"Sit down, Dave," the old sorcerer snapped at his apprentice. "He won't be going anywhere. I just don't trust him in the apartment. God knows what he'll get into."

"So you just let him _go_?" The boy had begun pacing. "He'll just wait a couple of days and come at you again. And next time you might not be strong enough to win anymore."

"That's why I don't want to keep him in the apartment," Balthazar growled through clenched teeth. "He can't do much damage out there, and he won't be able to get past our wards without us knowing now. I know what I'm doing. I've been doing it a lot longer than you have."

Dave just rolled his eyes at that, but remained silent.

Veronica studied him, carefully trying to withhold judgment on her husband's decision. "How do you know he's no threat?"

Balthazar bent slowly and obviously very painfully, wincing at sharp crack in his back. At that, he straightened up, muttering irritably to Veronica. "Under the sofa." He motioned for her to reach there for him. "Thank you," he added quietly.

She nodded and easily reached down to retrieve whatever it was he'd stuck under there. She pulled out a cane with a brilliant blue stone on top. Her eyes immediately shot to Balthazar's. "You have his cane? How...?"

Balthazar smirked. "That was the deal. If he wanted to both get off my wall and stay out of the Grimhold, I got to keep this until we worked out our little problem."

Dave shook his head, dropping back into the chair. "And he actually _agreed_? He must really be afraid of the Grimhold."

Balthazar's eyes darkened. "He's afraid of something, alright," he replied quietly.

Veronica's sharp eyes caught Balthazar's expression. "This has to do with that situation you mentioned. What is going on? What is Horvath afraid of?" She paused and asked sternly, "And why did you let him go?"

He rubbed the edge of the green stone of his ring thoughtfully with his thumb. "Horvath and I have a mutual acquaintance from a couple hundred years ago. A sorcerer with no scruples. No morality." He paused at that, clearing his throat a bit derisively and added, "And no common sense." His eyes met each of theirs in turn. "Nikolai dabbled in things that even most Morganians avoid. Enough so that it turned out both Horvath and I were individually hunting him down on and off to deal with him."

"You mean to kill him?" the youth asked.

"Or to lock him up."

Dave just stared at his master a moment in silence. "So this guy was like Sun Lok? Worth putting in the Grimhold? And strong enough to be able to hold _both_ of you back to stay out?"

Balthazar shook his head. "No. He's not particularly powerful. Either of us could have taken him down if we could have caught him, but he has ways of slipping through the cracks. The man has hundreds of aliases. By the time one of us would track him down, he'd be gone again."

Dave narrowed his eyes, considering his master's words. "You mean he _had_ hundreds of aliases. You told me yourself that sorcerers age like normal people. That you, Veronica and Horvath were the exception because of Merlin. If this guy's old enough to have known Horvath..."

Balthazar nodded seriously. "Nikolai worked to make himself another exception. He managed to slow his aging using methods considered unacceptable and quite frankly _stupid_ by both sides of the war. I thought he was finally dead, but apparently he's still around somewhere. Horvath got wind of him and thought if we worked together we could lock him up."

Veronica's fingers had begun gently stroking her husband's hand again. "If he isn't a threat, why would Horvath agree to work with you to deal with him?"

"He's a threat, just not because of his magic. He has access to external power. One of the reasons both Horvath and I were hunting him down was because he was after an item in my possession that could wreak havoc on everything if tampered with."

Veronica locked eyes with her husband. "What item?" Something in her voice gave Dave the chills and he had a feeling that she already knew what her husband's answer would be.

Balthazar took a breath. "The talisman. Nikolai got his hands on it while I was out of commission for decade."

She had paled at the mention of the talisman, but at his elaboration, her eyes narrowed. "Out of commission?"

He glanced away. "Just a small situation when I first met Dave. Had some problems with Horvath that kept me from doing any training for awhile. Nothing major..."

Her eyes narrowed further. "A decade is nothing major?"

"Compared to your thirteen hundred year captivity in the Grimhold...? No. Not really."

"You were _held_ somewhere for a decade? And you decided to wait until now to mention this?" Her angry eyes flashed.

Balthazar's eyes finally met hers. "We're getting off topic Veronica," he responded, his voice growing frustrated. "The talisman is a little more important at the moment." At the hard look on her face, he paused, finally conceding. "I'll give you details later." At her unchanging expression, he added, "I promise."

She nodded once, sharply, apparently somewhat placated by his offer to clarify things. Her irritation subdued by the reminder of the talisman. There was a graveness to her expression and a look in her eyes that made it clear to Dave that this was explanation enough as to why Horvath would willingly work with Balthazar.

Dave really wished someone would clue him in. "The talisman? What's that?"

"A trinket," Balthazar explained. "A little item that we never, ever want unsealed."

"Because...?"

"Because bad things will happen," was his master's simple response. "And no," he added, practically reading his apprentice's thoughts. "I'm not getting into the details. That thing's story is ancient history. Literally. It doesn't concern you."

Dave glared at his master. "Since when do we deem an item that when opened can destroy the world as 'not the Prime Merlinian's problem?'"

Balthazar replied as patiently as he could manage. "Since now. Nikolai doesn't have the power to unseal the talisman on his own. We just need to get it back before he does something stupid with it and lets someone who does have access to that kind of power get their hands on it."

"Someone like Horvath, then?" Dave asked with mock innocence.

"Even Horvath's magic couldn't open it alone." He continued before Dave could make his obvious retort. "Not even combined with Nikolai's power."

"He got the Grimhold open."

Balthazar levelled a steady look at his apprentice. "Nikolai is a brilliant scientist, but he's a foolish sorcerer who doesn't think before he acts. Horvath managed to open the Grimhold through planning and waiting, something Nikolai would never have the patience for unless he's changed a great deal in the past several decades. Not to mention the fact that Horvath also had the power of two other sorcerers as well as your ring to help him." He paused there, sending his apprentice a significant look. "Which is another reason to keep you out of it."

Dave scowled. "How are you so sure that Horvath isn't part of the problem? If he isn't working with this Nikolai, then I don't get why he came here at all. I mean, are you seriously trying to tell me that Horvath just dropped in to blow up your kitchen and warn you that a weak sorcerer has a talisman that he can't do anything with? Would that seriously have been worth you kicking his butt and taking his cane? I don't buy it."

"The talisman is dangerous, Dave, even if Nikolai isn't. Someone needs to protect it. For hundreds of years, that someone was me. And it was something I was very conscientious about until the urn incident."

Veronica sent her husband an odd look. "The urn incident?"

But Balthazar didn't answer, instead gently pulling his hand from hers and wrapping it around her shoulders as he continued his response to Dave. "We need to get it back, whatever the cost." He sighed. "Honestly, even if _Horvath _were to have it, I'd feel better. He's no fool. This isn't about world domination. This runs the risk of world destruction." He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "Horvath only recently got wind of this. He hasn't been able to track down Nikolai yet, but he thought we could get it back more quickly if we worked together. We came close when we worked on our own in the past. This is a logical move. And this way if the talisman _is_ somehow unsealed, all three of us—Veronica, Horvath and I—will be available to reseal it."

"And me."

Balthazar's expression was stern. "If it opens, you and your ring will be nowhere near it. Do you understand me?"

Dave glared back at his master. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally bit out refusing to openly agree to that comment, "I don't like this. How do we know it isn't a trick?" He looked to Veronica for support, but she remained silent.

"The talisman _is_ missing, Dave. It has been. I've known that much. Most of the contents of the Arcana Cabana are. I'd try to hunt it down like I did with the Grimhold, but I never bothered to put the same sorts of tracking enchantments on it. I never thought I'd need them. And without any kind of lead, there was no way I could search for it. After ten years, it could be anywhere in the world."

Dave stared at the floor in sullen silence. "So we just assume that Horvath really plans on helping?"

"He willingly left without his cane, Dave," Balthazar replied quietly. "He made no arguments. Do you think he was really okay with that? But he did it. He means what he said."

Veronica sighed, reluctantly nodding. "I don't like this either, but Balthazar's right. If the talisman's gone, then we need to get it back." She studied her husband critically. " But you're in no shape to be fighting sorcerer's, Balthazar. You admitted that facing Horvath was difficult. Eventually even this Nikolai will be a struggle." She met her husband's defiant eyes, adding, "I'm sorry, but it's true. You can't keep up this way unless you want to lose your ability to do anything at all. I'll work with Horvath to get it back. You and Dave just focus on reversing the aging." Her voice dropped at that. "Honestly, I'm more concerned about that than even the talisman at the moment."

Balthazar shook his head. "No, Veronica.. Horvath can't work with you. That's too complicated. Anyway," he added brusquely, "you don't know Nikolai. I do. It has to be me."

"Balthazar," Dave burst out. "This guy may not be strong, but like it or not, in a few days you won't be either. And I don't trust Horvath not to turn on you the minute you can't hold him back."

"I know that, Dave," Balthazar replied, poison in his eyes at the repeated reminders of his waning strength.

"Then just accept that it's a stupid idea and negotiate for a change."

"There is no negotiating over this. You and Veronica are to stay out of it." Before either could speak, he added. "That was agreed on by both of us. It's an uneasy alliance as it is, but Veronica, you'll be a distraction. And Dave, I'm not allowing you to be alone with Horvath." The old man's voice was flat and obviously he had no intention of budging on that point.

Dave gritted his teeth at his master's bullheadedness. "If you have to be there, then fine. I can't argue that. And I get Veronica not going. We don't need a high school caliber sorcerer's fight breaking out over her again. But there's no reason I can't go. If we're both there, then neither of us is alone with Horvath."

"And then you'd be in danger," Balthazar interrupted. "Which I'm not allowing. You're my apprentice, Dave. Your life is my responsibility until you're capable of consistently protecting yourself. And at this point, you aren't. He needs me, Dave. And as he so tactfully put it, I'm no use to him dead. He wants me alive and healthy. Not just uninjured, but strong enough to be of use to him. He and I made a deal. He'll try to help stop the aging and I'll work with him to take down Nikolai. That deal is on as long as it's only the two of us. It was his idea, but one I fully agree with." The man's expression turned sour. "Because, as everyone keeps reminding me, I'm quickly getting older and weaker. Soon I won't be able to protect either against him if he _does_ turn."

"You _don't_ trust him, then!"

Balthazar glared at the youth. "I'm not an idiot, Dave. Of course I don't trust him. But he needs me alive. He doesn't need you at all. I'm not risking your life over this."

"But you'll risk yours?"

Veronica's voice cut into their argument. "And no one is asking you to protect us, Balthazar. I am fully capable of protecting myself. Of protecting all three of us if necessary. I've done it several times in the past. You don't always have to worry about everyone else."

"Veronica," Balthazar responded, his voice low, "I spent thirteen hundred years with only two purposes: to find the Prime Merlinian and to protect people. I've completed one quest. I'm not willing to lose my only other use. Not while I still am still capable of doing it."

"_Balthazar_," Dave snapped, about to cross his breaking point with the old man.

Veronica apparently already had. Her eyes widened in a mixed expression of anger, disbelief and pain. "That isn't your only purpose in life, Balthazar. Do you believe that's all we care about?"

Balthazar looked away, not gracing that comment with a response. Answering it clearly with his silent refusal. "Horvath will keep his word, Dave. I'll be fine. He wants the talisman safe, and he needs my help. If he and I work together, we have a chance. And if all three of Merlin's apprentices _and_ the Prime Merlinian are hunting for a cure, we have a better chance of reversing whatever's happening to me." He shot Dave a serious look. "And logically, if it's Morganian magic being worked against me, then it will be easier to discover if Horvath is working with me on this."

Veronica's eyebrows raised at that, irritation still burning in her eyes, but clearly she was trying to hold back her temper at very least until they were out of earshot and able to "discuss" things in private. "Then you don't think it's Merlin's mistake after all?" she asked, tightly.

The old man's brow furrowed, and he gently pulled her close. "I don't know what I think at this point. All I can say is that there are too many coincidences at the moment. I'm keeping an open mind."

Dave nodded quietly, trying to process everything. He hated everything about this plan, except that he had to admit that Horvath's arrival seemed to have given Balthazar some motivation to finally push for answers. He snorted at that. Of course... the fact that he was slowly dying wasn't worth fighting for, but if it was necessary to be healthy to save the world? Balthazar was suddenly on it. Especially since he apparently had the idiotic idea in his head that he didn't matter if he didn't protect people. Dave took a deep breath, forcing that thought from his mind. _Later. I'll talk to him about that one later. After Veronica's had a chance to tear him apart for it. Right now we just need to focus on the real problems... and new options..._

His expression was grave. If only those options didn't have to involve _Horvath..._ He took a deep breath and studied his master for a long moment before he asked with forced calm, trying to bury all of his frustration where his master couldn't see it, "So, you're safe for now because Horvath needs you. Fine. How do you know he won't turn on you as soon as this is over?"

"Of course he'll turn on me. This alliance lasts until Nikolai's been taken down and the talisman is safe. After that, it's war again. But until that point, not only does he have to play fair with me, but he has to help. And if he waits to help, he risks me getting too old to be of any use to him. He needs to keep up his end of the deal immediately or he loses anyway." He paused. "That's actually what he's probably doing right now. He mentioned that he was going to start sorting through a few contacts to see if some Morganian in the area is somehow influencing my health. It isn't uncommon, though this method certainly is." With those words, the old sorcerer stood slowly, slipping his arm from around his wife, and added, "He said he'd call if he found anything out. Until then, I'm going to my room to flip through my Incantus. I want to be sure I haven't missed anything." He paused, adding, "I'll fix the kitchen later."

Dave glanced back at the room. "I can—"

"No." Balthazar's expression was simultaneously stern and amused. "Not unless you're planning on doing it by hand."

Dave grumbled, but backed off. "Forget it," he muttered.

His master smiled faintly at that, stretching stiffly. "Just put the groceries away. The fridge should still function, so if the milk hasn't spoiled yet, we might be able to salvage what you bought. For now, the rest can go in the cupboards that still have doors."

While he'd been speaking, Veronica had stood as well. "I'll come with you," she said softly to her husband, gently touching his arm to draw his attention. "Maybe I can help."

Balthazar's eyes shot over to her, and he nodded, his smile warming. "I'd appreciate it," he replied simply.

Dave just looked away as the couple began walking toward the hall, knowing full well that Veronica's help wouldn't only be with research. He was grateful that his friend would be in less pain, but he still hated knowing that the man needed the help. He was used to Balthazar being indestructible, even after the fight with Morgana. In fact, even though it had been Dave's actions that had saved the old man, that night had made Balthazar seem even more immortal to him. It was torture now having to suddenly face the fact that his friend was indeed mortal, and trapped in a surprisingly fragile human body that was rapidly deteriorating.

Dave sighed. Yeah... Balthazar had hated his immortality. And Dave wouldn't want the man to be stuck back in the hell that he'd lived before. But lately he found himself wishing that the aging, even in its normal state, hadn't kicked in right away. He hated this. Would it have been so bad for Balthazar to remain young for a couple more decades? Just long enough for Dave to be a little older than him. So he'd know that by the time Balthazar started getting old, Dave would already be past that point. Maybe it wouldn't bother him so much then...

He was pulled from his thoughts by the realization that Balthazar had stopped just before walking into the hallway and had turned back to face the living room. There was a look of annoyance on his face. Veronica appeared puzzled.

"Balthazar?" Dave asked tentatively. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the old man replied gruffly. "Just need my phone in case Horvath calls." His eyes roved the room. "I set it down somewhere."

Dave turned and glanced back at the small table by the entrance. "It's next to your keys," he replied. "Where you always stick it."

Balthazar nodded. "Of course." He walked over to get it. His reading glasses were resting beside it. Sighing, he grabbed the glasses and tucked them into his pocket. They'd been more of a convenience for the old man before, but now Dave had a sneaking suspicion that they were fast becoming a necessity. Balthazar looked up at Dave, a thought seeming to suddenly occur to him. "Have you eaten yet?"

Startled, the youth shook his head, looking up at his master. "No. Veronica and I were going to make dinner when we got home."

Balthazar motioned toward the kitchen. "Well, when you're done with the groceries, make yourself something."

Dave just nodded. "Okay. What about you?"

"Not hungry. I'll eat later." Finally, the sorcerer turned back to the hallway. "The stove still works," he commented as he passed Dave. "And the microwave should, too. I think we might have some frozen dinners if you don't feel like cooking. Help yourself." With those words, he finally entered the hallway with Veronica and headed toward their room. The door clicked shut and the room was quiet.

Dave stood in silence, turning his focus back to the small table in the entranceway. Balthazar's phone still rested near his keys.

* * *

_Author's Note: A great big thanks to kaytori, lolo popoki and FrostPhoenix for the beta work. And again... thanks to all of you for reading. Please review! It motivates me to update!_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius  
_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Dave tapped his fingers on the counter, trying to decide what to do next. The groceries had been put away, and he'd managed to manually clean up what he could, having decided that it was better to clean without magic than make Balthazar do it at all. The one splintered chair had been tossed into the corner, and the remains of the toaster as well as the shattered glass Dave had found all over the floor had been tossed into the garbage. He'd scrubbed the charred spots off of the refrigerator and the wall and had wiped a great deal of splintered wood off of the counter below the cracked cabinets. He'd leaned the two dislodged cabinet doors against the wall. He couldn't find the third, and he suspected that _that _had likely been the mass of wood splinters he'd been picking out of just about everything in the room. The kitchen was finally looking like a kitchen again.

Dave sighed, looking at the cracks in two walls and the broken cabinets. He was pretty sure he could fix those with magic, but he'd agreed to only fix the room up manually. Honestly, he should have just left everything to Balthazar, but he knew the old man wouldn't bother doing it with magic. He hated laziness. He had his exceptions... like starting the car, for instance. But for the most part, if Balthazar wanted something, he got up and grabbed it. If he needed something moved, he pushed it out of the way. And if he wanted something cleaned or fixed, he pulled out cleaning supplies and the small toolkit he kept in one of the lower cabinets. If magic was going to be involved, then it had to be something he couldn't do on his own. Unless he happened to be in a hurry.

So, though Dave knew that Balthazar was capable of fixing up the entire room in five minutes, rather than the hour Dave had spent on it, the youth had done the job anyway. Because even as an old man, the elder sorcerer would have stubbornly done things his way. And Balthazar wasn't in any shape for manual labor. At very least not until he'd gotten some rest and taken some painkillers. Even Veronica could only do so much.

He was just looking around the room, trying to consider his next move, when he heard classical music begin playing in the living room. _What the hell?_ He turned and walked to the kitchen door, peeking out into the other room. Half expecting to see Balthazar messing with the record player. No one was in the room. Suddenly the music stopped.

_Dear God, don't let me finally have gone crazy in this place..._

He glanced around, his eyes finally lighting on Balthazar's forgotten cell phone that now lay quietly on the table, lit face finally fading. Dave sighed. Apparently Balthazar had finally gotten around to changing his ringtone from the annoying old-school phone one it used to have. _Of course he'd have to pick classical music. What _was_ that anyway? Sounded like something off of _Fantasia...

He walked over to the phone and checked out the number. It wasn't from the older sorcerer's address book. It wasn't a Manhattan number either. He picked up the phone, considering bringing it to his master. But he hesitated. If he brought it to Balthazar, then they'd both have to acknowledge the fact that the old man had forgotten it on the table. It wasn't as though that were a particularly odd occurrence. Everyone forgot things now and then. But honestly... it was Balthazar. The man had an incredible memory.

Dave winced. At least he used to...

He honestly just wanted Balthazar to find the phone later when Dave wasn't around so they could both pretend the master sorcerer hadn't forgotten. Dave sighed, knowing that wasn't an option. The call might have been important. It might have been—

The phone rang again at that moment, startling Dave so badly that he dropped it onto the carpet. "Geez," he muttered quietly. "It's a phone, Dave. Relax." He bent to pick it up. Same number as before. He considered just letting it ring again, and hope it went to voicemail. Dave's grip on the phone tightened. Because if he answered and it wound up being Horvath on the other end of the line...

_But what if it's one of Balthazar's contacts? What if they've got news for him? _

It was a long shot. Neither of them was supposed to call for a couple days. Dave sighed and flipped the phone open. Whether or not Dave believed that Horvath was really going to help them, he supposed it _could_ happen. And Dave had already promised himself to do everything he could to save his master. Even if it meant putting up with that psychotic prig.

He jammed his finger irritably into the accept button and brought the phone to his face, speaking before the voice on the other end even had a chance. "Balthazar's in the other room," he growled abruptly. I'll get him. Hold on." He pulled the phone from his ear so he wouldn't have to hear the response and stalked over to his master's room, knocking. "Balthazar?"

There was a brief pause before the older man answered. "What do you need?"

"Nothing." Dave's hand tightened on the phone and he took a deep breath. "You forgot your phone out here."

"You just noticed that?" Balthazar's dry sarcasm certainly hadn't faded.

Dave rolled his eyes, responding without thinking. "At least I noticed."

There was a long silence, and Dave suddenly realized how that had sounded. He winced. _Dammit._ Their banter was always quick and regular. This was something he'd have snapped out at any other time, and Balthazar would have just come back at him with some other smartass comment that would have soundly trumped Dave's feeble attempt at checkmating the man. But dammit, did he have to say it now when Balthazar probably _hadn't_ noticed the forgotten phone...?

His master finally opened the door. His expression was stone as he reached his hand out for the phone. "Thank you," he said in an oddly quiet voice.

Dave felt even worse. "You got a call," he muttered. Not meeting the old man's eyes.

"Who is it? Horvath?"

Dave shrugged. "I don't know." He handed the phone over. "Take it."

He turned to leave.

"You didn't recognize the voice?"

Dave glanced back at the old man. "I didn't let him talk," he replied simply. "If it _was_ Horvath, I'd have probably hung up on him. I don't like him helping." He paused, finally meeting the old man's eyes. "But if he's going to help..." Dave shrugged. "I'm going to get something to eat. Just finished up cleaning the kitchen." With those words he walked away.

* * *

Balthazar stared after his apprentice for a moment. He then looked down at the phone. So he'd left it out there after all. That was the third damn thing he'd forgotten today. The fourth if he counted missing his exit on the way home, though he preferred to just tell himself he'd been too distracted at the time to pay attention to mile markers.

Everything he'd forgotten had been minor, but still... little things added up. And lately, everything had started adding up more quickly than he liked to admit.

He glared down at the offending item as though his lapse in memory were the phone's fault, then brought the phone up to his ear, growling gruffly into the mouthpiece. "Hello?"

There was a small pause before an amused voice responded lightly. "I was starting to think I had actually been put on hold."

Not Horvath.

"Dr. Kirk," Balthazar responded, a touch surprised that the professor was already calling back. Though it technically _had_ already been a couple of days since they'd spoken. U of Pennsylvania had been Balthazar's first stop.

"Marcus," the man responded mildly. "Drop the Dr. Kirk stuff. We've already gone over this. I was what—eight—the first time we met? When you handed me that little trinket of yours? And I couldn't have been more than thirty the last time you turned up. Something's just not right about you using titles with me. Especially not when you're so old."

"Thanks for reminding me," the sorcerer responded dryly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You know what I meant, Balthazar. I'm not foolish enough to think you're an ordinary man. Normal men age. You were on a standstill for awhile there, weren't you?" There was a small pause before the other man continued. "Anyway, I take it you found your little dragon's owner and wound up getting your girl?"

Balthazar blinked, startled at the abrupt change in subject. "Yes. And how exactly did you work that out?"

"I assume that was your son who just answered the phone." Balthazar could imagine the man grinning on the other end of the line.

He sighed. "He's not my son, Marcus. He's my student."

"Your student is answering your cell phone?" The professor's tone was amused.

"It's complicated."

"For some reason, I'm not surprised. Everything about you seems to be complicated." The professor paused, then continued. "I didn't realize you were a teacher."

That small smile twitched at Balthazar's lips again. "Of sorts."

"Well, my mistake, then. Easy enough to make though." The other man chuckled in clear amusement. "The boy didn't let me get two words in. Seemed to have your winning personality. I was sure you two had to be related."

"Did you call for a reason, Marcus?" Balthazar cut in, sourly. "Or did you just contact me for your own personal amusement? Because if that's the case, I'll just hand you back over to Dave so you can be properly ignored again."

Marc burst out laughing at that. "God, you haven't changed at all. I thought it was just the stress of the drive, but you're still the same crazy, sarcastic bastard aren't you?"

_And I was worried I'd make him uncomfortable? He's more comfortable mocking me than Horvath even..._

"The point?" he repeated, backing into his bedroom and shutting the door firmly. He glanced back at Veronica who was sitting on the bed, her expression curious, and motioned for her not to worry about it.

She nodded and drew her feet up beneath her, picking a science magazine off of the night table where Balthazar had left it. She immediately appeared absorbed.

Balthazar smiled faintly at that. She had absolutely no idea what was going on in that magazine. Her tactful way of paying attention without staring.

The professor sighed. "Right, right. Always business with you, isn't it?"

"I'm in a bit of a time crunch at the moment, or have you forgotten?" the old man asked dryly, walking to the foot of the bed and easing himself down onto the mattress.

"Right. Sorry." A pause. This time Marc's voice was quieter... more concerned. "How are you doing, anyway? It's been a few days..."

"I'm fine, Marc. Can we move on?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I did a little digging through the standard texts and came up empty-handed. No surprise there. No historical accounts or alchemical records of spontaneous aging, even within the realms of standard mythology. I even went so far as to check with a few of my colleagues—academic curiosity of course—but still nothing..."

"It wouldn't have been in a standard text, Marc. You know that."

"Just covering all bases. Our department is small, Balthazar. And honestly, there aren't many people out there who have a working knowledge of alchemy. I told you that when you visited. I can't just will things out of thin air."

"If I needed to will things out of thin air, I'd do it myself," Balthazar responded smoothly.

"I don't doubt it. Anyway, I made a few calls to some museums, used bookstores, etc. I even called that crazy psychic lady. Remember the one down the street? Used to sell that creepy tar slop and call it love potions."

"Marcus, I told you not to mess with her. She's the real thing."

"I know."

"And she's one of the bad guys." He paused for emphasis before adding, "Just like that old man who used to hang out in the university library. And those guys you thought were dealing drugs a couple of blocks from your apartment building."

"Yeah, yeah. And that crazy couple you blitzed back in '84 when they tried to kill me. I know. Your point?"

Balthazar sighed deeply. "That doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

He could imagine the other man grinning at the other end of the line. "Not particularly. What's she going to do? Sic a gargoyle after me? Wouldn't be the first time."

"I told you that if you provoke another Morganian, I'm going to sit back, buy popcorn, and watch the show."

This time the man did laugh. "Never. You're too damn benevolent for your own good." He sighed. "One of the reasons we're going to get you through this. There aren't enough people in the world like that. Can't let one of the few left die over something stupid like this..."

"You're getting warm and fuzzy, Marcus. I don't like warm and fuzzy." Balthazar sighed. "Did you just call to tell me you hit a brick wall?" His voice was flat, though the faintest hint of disappointment managed to leak through his usually impassive mask.

The professor ignored him. "You're lucky one of my interns is an obsessive over collecting oddities. And you're lucky she's nosy. She overheard me talking to a contact about the idea of aging properties in medieval days and earlier. Problems, solutions, reasons, magic. We eventually got to talking about all sorts of mythological creatures. And within an hour, she's knocking on my office door with a book that dwarfs the Oxford English Dictionary in her arms."

"A book?"

"Yeah. A book. With a hell of a lot more information in it than most libraries can store."

"On aging?"

"On everything. This thing is old, Balthazar. I've never seen anything like it. I had to promise to make some very important calls for her just for the right to keep it locked in my office. You're lucky I like you so much."

"Did it have anything useful?"

"What do you know about demons, Balthazar?"

"Not much. Only an idiot would deal in demons," he responded in a derisive tone.

"Really? Because this book has an extensive section on demons. And your name comes up."

Balthazar was dead silent for a long moment. "It's someone else. 'Balthazar' isn't _that_ uncommon a name..." He paused, continuing lamely," ...in some parts of the world." When Marc didn't answer, he added, "Especially a millennia or two ago..."

"Balthazar..."

"I never come up, Marcus. Especially not by name."

"This is a strange book, Balthazar. Changes every time I look at it. There are chapters I'm quite frankly afraid to read."

"An Incantus..." Balthazar whispered.

"What's that?"

"It's called an Incantus."

"I take it you've seen one before?"

"I own one. There's nothing in it. I've scoured the thing from cover to cover. I've literally pulled information from the pages. It has no answers."

"Maybe you're asking the wrong questions."

"I've owned mine for centuries, Marcus. In fact, I can guarantee that I _wrote_ part of what you read in yours. I know how they work."

"Yet I found something that you didn't. We could keep arguing if you'd like, and I could sit back while you pitch a fit. Or the other option is that you could stop interrupting and let me talk. Unless you _want_ to waste a couple weeks of your life arguing an irrelevant point."

Balthazar fell silent at that. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his hand over his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "Go on. What didn't I ask?"

"We've been focusing on what's wrong with _you, _but what if that isn't the problem at all? What if it isn't what's been done to you that's the problem. What if it has to do with something you've done?"

"Something I've done?"

"You sealed a demon once, didn't you?"

"Yes. Once."

"Demons don't like that, Balthazar. Especially not this one."

* * *

_Author's Note: Big apology, first of all for the long wait for an update on this fic. I didn't forget about it. I just got hung up on _Odds_. My other apology is for dropping off the face of the world entirely for awhile there. Things have been crazy busy for me between nanowrimo, moving, working two jobs, and personal issues. Things are starting to slow down again, so updates will hopefully be a bit more regular again. My apologies._

_A big thank you to kaytori and lolo popoki for their invaluable beta work. And of course, thanks to all of you for waiting patiently (or not so patiently, as they case may be) for my updates. And thank you for reading. Please review. It really is motivating:)  
_

_And to those of you waiting for me to update _Odds_... Thanks for the words (and prods) of encouragement to update. I'm trying. You can ask my betas. Hopefully a new chapter for that fic will also be coming your way soon!_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius:)_


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